The Meaning of Courage
by DustfingerandXion
Summary: "I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you try anyway." - Atticus, To Kill a Mockingbird Merlin, Future AU. SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: The Meaning of Courage 1/?  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned in the fic (which is unfortunate for me, but fortunate for the characters) they all belong to the Mighty BBC. No money is being made here.  
Spoilers: N/A  
Summary: In which Arthur tries, and fails, to get into Merlin's pants (twice), Leon doesn't answer his phone, Morgana cries a lot, and Merlin breaks some pencils.**

** So, another series. I know. *Fail* This has been hanging around since just before New Year, and I've finally finished it. It's probably the longest chapter I have EVER written. (11 pages on a word document! o:) I won't be able to upload much in the next few weeks, I'm currently doing my GCSEs, and I don't have much free time. ):**

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Arthur hadn't planned to be stuck in his sister's apartment at 7AM; listening to her ramble on about how her boyfriend hated the fact she was pregnant. In fact, Arthur hadn't planned to be doing a whole lot of anything at 7AM.

"Morgana, for the last time, Leon does _not _hate you!" Rubbing at his eyes wearily, Arthur perched on the arm of the sofa. "He _isn't _avoiding you; he _isn't _pissed off because of the lack of sleep he's getting; and he _definitely _isn't ignoring your calls!" He sighed heavily. Leon had only been gone 20 minutes, and Arthur feared how many times Morgana had actually tried to call him. "Don't you think you're over-reacting just a little bit?"

"I'm _pregnant_," Morgana hissed, throwing a cushion at his head. "And you're my _brother_." She continued, as if it explained everything. Arthur stared at her.

"Is there anything I can actually help you with, Morgana, or can I go back to bed?" As soon as he had said it, he wished he hadn't. Mortified, Arthur watched as Morgana's eyes welled up with tears, and before he could leap across the sofa and attempt to comfort her, she had begun to sob hysterically.

"I hate being pregnant!" She wailed, throwing her arms around Arthur's neck and burrowing her nose into his shoulder. Attempting to rub comforting circles on her back, Arthur rolled his eyes. Morgana had been pregnant for over six months now, and Arthur had only just begun to get used to her newfound ability to successfully switch moods within the blink of an eye.

As Morgana's sobs began to quieten down to pathetic sniffles, Arthur let himself relax, his shoulders sagging in relief.

"Ugh, Arthur, you're disgusting." Morgana pulled away, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"What? What have I done now?" He scowled at her.

"Your shirt reeks of cigarette smoke, beer, and sweat. Did you wear it last night when you went out?" She shuddered dramatically. "Ugh, do you have no concept of hygiene?"

"Hey! You rang me up at half six, screeching about Leon and how you really needed me there, so I grabbed the closest clothes I could find. They just happened to be the ones I wore last night! I didn't think about looking good, Morgana, you said it was an _emergency._"

"It _is _an emergency!" Her voice shook, threatening tears again. "Leon hates me!"

With a groan of frustration, Arthur grabbed the box of tissues off the coffee table, and began the difficult task of calming her down again. Arthur doubted he would be going back to bed anytime soon.

As it happened, Arthur managed to scrounge an extra hour in bed before his classes started. Gwen popping around to bring Morgana back the CDs she had borrowed had saved him - thankfully. As soon as she'd seen the state her friend was in, she had ushered Arthur out of the flat, claiming his presence was hindering her ability to get Morgana to tell her _exactly _what was wrong.

It can't have been that bad, Arthur decided, if the way Morgana had cut her sentence short and shouted at Arthur to shower and wash his clothes was anything to go by.

Towel-drying his hair, Arthur pottered about his dorm, occasionally tidying away plates or cups. He kicked at the dirty washing spread over his floor, trying to sort it into whites and colours without actually using his hands. He soon found that feet were not exactly great laundry-sorters, gave up, and tossed the damp towel onto the whites pile to deal with later.

After making a mental note to call Morgana later that day, he grabbed his keys and jacket, and left his dorm. Attempting to lock the door and pull on his jacket at the same time without looking a complete fool, Arthur began on his way, hoping to be abele to pick up some coffee before his first lecture began.

The shrill ringing of his phone made him jump and he fumbled in his pocket for it.

"Hello?"

_"Arthur! Brilliant. I hoped to catch you before your lecture!"_

"Leon! Just the man I wanted to speak to."

_"Really?"_

"Yeah. Morgana called me over this morning – she was really upset." His voice hardened, his brotherly protectiveness slowly kicking in. Leon was a good man, Arthur knew that, and he also knew that Morgana was probably just making a fuss over nothing, but seeing his sister in such a state over something that her boyfriend supposedly had done had pushed several of his buttons, and forced the typical brotherly response to surface.

_"That was what I was calling you about actually…"_ A heavy sigh crackled through the phone, and Arthur could almost see Leon running a hand through his hair – a habit he had when he was worried or nervous.

"Oh? What exactly happened this morning?" Arthur smiled and waved at a student he recognized, gesturing to his phone when they moved to approach him.

_"Well,"_ Leon hesitated. _"We didn't get a lot of sleep last night."_ Arthur grimaced, making a disgusted noise. "_Not in that way! God, Arthur, she's pregnant. What kind of a man do you think I am? The baby was kicking all night, honestly, I swear it's bloody nocturnal, so I stayed up with her. This morning, I got up late, so had to rush, and she wanted to talk about me not getting enough sleep because of her, and I asked to do it later."_

Arthur frowned, extremely confused. "So why was she crying?"

_"She was crying?"_ Leon sounded horrified. _"God, I'm an awful boyfriend…_" He trailed off, sighing heavily.

"Leon."

_"Yes. Sorry. Well, I was in a hurry, and so it sounded a lot more pissed that it was meant to. And I just came out a meeting find five missed calls from her… God, she probably thinks I'm avoiding her…"_

"She does, actually."

_"What?"_

"Oh, sorry. That's not helping. Look – Just call her and explain yourself. Gwen's with her, so you may have to do some serious groveling before she'll let you even talk to Morgana…"

_"Alright. Thanks, Arthur. I owe you one."_

Checking the clock on his phone, Arthur frowned. He was later than he thought he was. Maybe if he ran, he could avoid the usual queues ad get a cup of coffee from the stand before his first lecture. After saying a brief goodbye to Leon, he wet to slip his phone into his satchel and grab his wallet, only to realize that he'd left it and it's entire contents back in his dorm.

Cursing profusely, Arthur spun on his heels, heading back to his room at a jog. Coffee would have to wait, it would seem.

Merlin wasn't late. Well, not as late as he normally was. He'd managed to drag himself out of bed early enough to be able to take a rushed shower and make himself a mug of coffee (without milk, unfortunately, as he'd forgotten to get some _again_), but not early enough it would seem, to actually iron some clothes. It had been one of those times when Merlin was extremely grateful to be able to do magic.

He'd ended up having to wear an un-ironed band t-shirt, however, as he'd forgotten completely about the iron, thus forgetting about the spell, and he'd only remembered when it was too late and an hole had been burnt through the fabric. After several minutes of cursing his own stupidity, he'd only had time to gulp down his scalding coffee, grab his shoes (but not actually put them on), and scoop up his bag and mountain of Art supplies before running out the door and trying very hard to get to his class when he was supposed to.

No one was particularly surprised to see Merlin hurrying down the corridor wearing no shoes whilst juggling far too many sketchbooks, and so they very quickly crossed to the other side of the hall, shaking their heads at his strange ability to be late _all the time._

Arthur really should have remembered that his door was in the path of the bumbling Art student he saw practically every morning, but because of his own lateness, all thoughts of charging idiots had been completely forgotten.

So he could only really blame himself that when he stepped back to open his door, he put himself directly in the way of Merlin as he ran down the corridor. He barely had a chance to push open his door before he was bowled over and had a tin of pencils thrown in his face.

"Watch where you're going!" He cried, trying to get back to his feet with what little dignity he had left.

"Watch where _you're _going!" Merlin hissed, attempting to scoop up all the sheets of paper that had been thrown out of a folder. He snatched the box of pencils off of Arthur, opening it to inspect the damage. He felt his stomach drop when he found that only the dark green was still in one piece. "My pencils!" He wailed, frantically trying to put one back together by jabbing the ends together.

"My face!" Arthur corrected, gesturing wildly at the small cut jut under his eye. "You better have a bloody good reason why I shouldn't hurt you, you idiot!"

"Oh, shut up, you prat!" Merlin scowled at him through his hair. "I expect you to replace these, by the way!" His scowl deepened when Arthur ducked the broken pencil Merlin had thrown at his head.

Arthur snorted. "You expect _me _to replace them?" He stood up quickly, straightening out his jacket. "_You _ran into _me_! Replace them yourself – they're only pencils." Rolling his eyes, he strode into his dorm to grab his bag. As he turned to leave he found himself very suddenly face to face with a furious Merlin.

"Only pencils? These are not just any pencils!" Arthur took an instinctive step back, only to have Merlin take a step forward to meet him. "These are Derwent Studio Pencils! Over £100 worth of Derwent Studio Pencils! _And your face broke them!_" He waved a handful of snapped pencils in Arthur's face, causing him to take another desperate step away from the sharp points. To his dismay, Merlin followed. "Do you have _anything _to say to convince me not to run you through?"

Failing to think of anything witty to say, Arthur did the next thing that came to mind that he hoped would get him out of an agonizing death by pencil. He took Merlin's face in his hands, and kissed him.

For a moment, Arthur found himself quite enjoying it (and Merlin too, if the way he momentarily seemed to melt was anything to go by), which came as quite a shock, until Merlin pulled away and connected his fist with his face.

"You arrogant, self-centred, egotistical… prat!" Merlin cried, shoving Arthur away roughly.

"What was that for?" Arthur touched his nose gingerly, wincing at the pain. Merlin certainly didn't look very strong, but he could sure pack a punch.

"What was it for? Ugh… just… no!" Spinning on his heel, Merlin stomped out of Arthur's room, pausing only for a moment to scoop up his Art supplies and shoes before he hurried off to class.

Frowning, Arthur went to pick up his bag, only to find Merlin's dark green pencil, the only one, he assumed, that was still intact. Twirling it thoughtfully between his fingers, Arthur couldn't help but smile. As he left his dorm, he slipped it into his back pocket, forgetting all about his need for coffee. Even if he had to make up an excuse about returning it, Arthur found himself inexplicably determined to see Merlin again.

All plans of returning the pencil to appease Merlin were ruined when Arthur was stupid enough to forget it was in his pocket and sat down heavily during his lecture. He'd frozen when he'd heard something snap, and instantly began patting himself down and testing his joints to make sure he hadn't suddenly and painlessly broken anything. As he'd got t his hips, his fingers brushed against something on his chair, and he'd grabbed it quickly before it could roll onto the floor. Staring at it for a moment in disbelief, he'd dug in his back pocket for the other half, only to find it snapped beyond repair, the lead crumbling. Without thinking he'd cried "Shit!" in despair, causing his lecturer to pause in writing out an equation ad glare at him. After apologizing, he'd let his head fall onto his desk heavily – calling himself a complete tit just didn't seem to cover it,

It was with a heavy heart that he'd approached Merlin's dorm, frowning a little when he found the door slightly ajar, music filtering through the gap. Knocking on the door gently he stood in the doorway nervously.

Merlin turned quickly, his look of curiosity turning to anger almost instantly. "You!" He growled, pointing a paintbrush at him. Seeing a bit of the green paint drip onto the carpet, Arthur attempted to leave as quickly as he had arrived.

"Yes, me. But you know, never mind. I'll just um…"

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me why you're here!"

"Well…" Arthur took a deep breath. "I found one of your pencils, and I was going to give it back to you intact, but I kind of sat on it."

"You _what_?" Arthur quickly avoided a blob of paint flung in his direction when Merlin shook his paintbrush in frustration.

"I sat on it. Not on purpose, obviously. I put it in my back pocket, and sat down in my Maths lecture and-"

"Stop talking." Merlin raised a hand to silence him, his expression unreadable.

"Okay." Feeling sheepish, Arthur stuck his hands in his pockets, waiting for Merlin to react.

"Shut up!"

"I have!" Arthur cried in his defense, instantly regretting it when Merlin lunged at him with the paintbrush so suddenly Arthur had no time to react.

Looking smug, Merlin dunked his paintbrush in a mug of water, wiping his hands on his jeans causally, leaving Arthur to splutter in shock. In a spur of the moment urge, Merlin had simply drawn a thick green line of paint down Arthur's face and the front of his shirt.

"My shirt!" Arthur turned to Merlin, his face furious. "This was expensive! And you've ruined it!" He finished his sentence in an angry whisper, shoulders tense with frustration.

"Just replace it – it's only a shirt."

"Oh, ha ha, very funny _Mer_lin!" Looking down at himself, Arthur made a small disgusted sound, before pulling it over his head, and using it to wipe the paint off of his face. His foul mood was slightly appeased when he heard Merlin choke on his coffee, flushing red with embarrassment.

"Problem, Merlin?"

"You're such a prat!"

"So you keep saying."

"Because it's true!"

"Idiot."

"Dick."

"Hey! That was uncalled for." Arthur frowned, twisting his ruined shirt in his hands.

"Not, it was very much called for. Now get out." After forcefully pushing Arthur out of his dorm, Merlin closed the door firmly. All thoughts of his last ruined pencil forgotten, he leant against the door, his expression a mix of amusement and confusion. Arthur was quite something.

"You know, Lance, I just… Argh!" Furiously, Merlin threw a carrot into its display crate. He'd spent the past few hours after his 'conversation' with Arthur attempting to finish some of his portfolio for University, but had spent most of the time running his hands angrily through his hair and kicking pieces of furniture in frustration. Now that he was at work, away from all reminders of Arthur, his mood had not improved at all. "He just went and kissed me out of the blue, and _now _I can't get the idiot out of my head," He emphasized his point by jabbing a carrot at his temple, narrowly avoiding impaling himself on it. "And it's driving me insane!"

Leaning casually on a mop, Lancelot sighed. "Was it any good?"

"What?"

"The kiss. Was he any good?"

"That's completely beside the point!" Merlin cried, throwing a carrot at Lance. It missed my miles, landing instead at an unamused customer's feet.

"Clearly it is very much not beside the point, Merlin." Lancelot looked up towards the nearest loudspeaker, completely ignoring it's crackly blare of _'Lancelot to aisle 5 – clean up required'._

"How?" Giving up on putting the carrots away one by one, Merlin simply turned the box upside down, letting the vegetables fall into the crate. "How is it not beside the point? Is that even a phrase?" Picking up a stray carrot that had missed the crate, he dumped it with the others.

"Whether it is a phrase or not doesn't matter. The point is, if you can't stop thinking about him, maybe you've got a bit of a crush on him."

"I do not!" Merlin lowered his voice quickly as his sudden outcry made several nosy customers look over in curiosity. "I am not a schoolgirl, Lance – I do not have a crush on Arthur."

"Really? So you won't mind if I ask him out then?"

"Don't even think about it!" Merlin's sudden aggressive tone shocked even him, leaving Lancelot to burst into fits of laughter.

'_Lancelot – Get down to aisle 5. NOW.' _The screech of the loudspeaker cut their conversation short. "Alright, alright. I'm coming…" he grumbled. Sighing heavily, Lancelot began to trudge off to Aisle 5, bucket and mop in tow.

Merlin hurried after him, dragging his food cage with him, abandoning the empty carrot box in the middle of the aisle. "That was cruel."

"It proved my point though."

"Don't make me hit you, Lance."

"You never would."

"Try me." After a moment of walking in silence, Merlin frowned. "You were joking, right?" At Lancelot's quizzical expression, he continued, surprised as to how nervous he felt. "About asking him out? Right?" Lancelot merely laughed. "I thought you liked that Gwen girl?"

"What can I say?" Arthur's manly ruggedness and muscles are irresistible." Merlin stared at him blankly, pulse racing. "I'm joking, Merlin! No need to pull that face. He's all yours, mate."

"I don't want him." Merlin persisted, annoyed at how unconvincing he sounded. He'd only met Arthur today, and he'd been a complete prat from the start, but Merlin couldn't deny the strange fluttery feeling he had whenever he thought of him. It was annoyingly embarrassing.

"Of course you don't. Now, on the subject of Gwen… she invited me to her friend's party… Morgana or something. I think she mentioned engagement, or something along those lines. Anyway, she told me to invite someone so that she won't be the only person there that I know, and I figured that because you have no life, you should come."

"I have a life!"

"No you don't." Lancelot waved his words of quickly. "Are you coming, or what? I'll give you a lift there."

"Fine. So long as you don't expect me to drive back. I am _not _driving you home when you're pissed, not after last time." Merlin shuddered at the memory: Lancelot and some girl he'd picked up were all over each other in the back of Merlin's car, which was disgusting enough while he was driving, but it was the final straw when said drunken girl threw up all over the upholstery. He'd had to replace the entire back seat when the stains wouldn't come out.

"Alright, alright. Maybe you'll get lucky," Lancelot winked and nudged Merlin with his elbow. "And you won't need a lift home at all."

"Shut up, Lance."

"Okay, Mr. Grumpy Pants." Lancelot tutted, faking hurt.

"No, seriously. Shut up and do your job before I hit you."

"Yes, sir!"

"Lance!"

"I don't even know why you're having this party, Morgana."

Morgana poked her head around her bathroom door, toothbrush in hand. "Because I'm engaged? Hence why it's an _engagement _party."

"For starters, Leon only proposed to you _this afternoon_ – you didn't exactly beat about the bush organizing this, and besides, you're pregnant."

She frowned. "And?"

"Well, you're not gonna drink. And Leon won't because you won't. And Gwen just doesn't drink anyway. So it'll just be me by myself." Fiddling with his hair in the mirror, Arthur sighed. He'd turned up at Morgana's house an hour early to help her set up, only to have her send him home to change into something more 'classy'. She seemed pleased with his second selection, telling him that she was quite surprised at his sudden fashion sense.

"Stop pulling at your jacket, Arthur." She called from in the bathroom. "And, there are other things you can do at a party, Arthur, other than get completely smashed out of your head. You know, like socializing? And actually talking to people?"

Elbowing him out the way of her bedroom mirror, she smiled. "You do scrub up nicely, Arthur." She took in his appearance – plain red t-shirt, dark jeans and a black suit jacket. "I am almost proud to call you my brother."

"Only almost?"

"Yes, only almost." Adjusting his collar for him, she smiled innocently. "Mainly because you need a haircut _desperately, _and you didn't shave."

"Yes I did!"

"What's this then?" Tilting his chin to side, she pointed to a small patch of stubble by his ear. She laughed lightly when he desperately turned his head to the side, fingers scrabbling at the side of his face.

"No way did I miss that!"

"I'm guessing that bit was hiding when you shaved?" She poked her tongue out at his scowling reflection, checking over her immaculate hair. "Just smooth your hair over it. No, not like that, you'll look like an imbecile, like _this._ Now leave it alone." She shook her head, earrings jingling faintly. "Go on through and help Leon would you? Yes, off you go."

"This is slave labour – I'm supposed to be a guest!" He protested, as she forcefully ushered him out of her bedroom.

"I need to get dressed, and besides, I'm not supposed to do anything too strenuous. Pregnant trumps guest every time, Arthur."

"Sometimes I really hate you."

"Of course you do. How could you hate this?" She gestured vaguely at herself.

"Surprisingly easily."

"I'm hurt, dear brother." She said, not an ounce of hurt in her voice, before shutting the door in his face.

"I'm sure you'll live." He called through the door, huffing loudly. When she didn't reply, he stomped off to give Leon a hand, murmuring furiously under his breath. Why he agreed to this, he had no idea.

It was times like this that Merlin really hated parties (and Lance, but that was a rant for another time). Normally, he loved to have a laugh, a bit of a drink (Only a bit – his mother had drilled into him the risks of excessive drinking since before he could remember), and just let his hair down. Figuratively, of course. But now, sat on Morgana's couch, he really wished he hadn't come.

It wasn't the fact that the party was bad – the party itself was brilliant. The perfect laid-back atmosphere for Merlin to enjoy himself. It was the fact that Arthur was there. Well, he didn't have a problem with Arthur being there at the party as such. No, he had a problem with Arthur being right _there, _sat close to him, his arm flung around Merlin's shoulders. As Arthur attempted to nuzzle his very drunk face into his neck, Merlin made a disgusted noise and rolled his eyes.

"Arthur." The blonde ignored him, continuing to nuzzle. "_Arthur._" At the tone of Merlin's voice, Arthur looked up, his expression confused.

"What?"

"The nuzzling. Stop it. _Now._"

"Why?" Arthur leant close to Merlin, in an attempt to kiss his cheek. He frowned as he found Merlin's hand very suddenly in the way.

"Because you're drunk. Very drunk, in fact, and I do not approve."

"Don't be such a prude." Arthur batted Merlin's hand away, kissing him softly on the cheek. "Come on – I'm a catch." When Merlin turned to him furiously, mouth open ready to say something undoubtedly witty and clever, Arthur took his chance and kissed him on the lips.

As much as Merlin's mind was frantically reminding him of the happenings of that afternoon, and the fact that Arthur was very, _very _drunk and had no idea what he was doing, Merlin could feel his resolve slowly ebbing away and with it, his sanity. _Ah, sod it, _He thought, kissing Arthur back carefully. He was still half-expecting him to pull away and hit him, or something.

Taking Merlin's co-operation as a good sign, Arthur ran his hand through Merlin's hand, tangling his fingers in it. When Merlin appeared to melt a little against him and grip onto Arthur's jacket, he smirked. Even in his drunken haze he could tell how much Merlin was enjoying it – and how much he was, for that matter.

It may have been because he was completely smashed out of his mind, or because he was currently making out with the guy he'd been trying not to think about all day (and failing) that Arthur didn't notice Morgana creep toward them (well, as much as you can creep when you're pregnant), pull out her phone, and snap a picture of them entwined together, and scurry away, giggling like a loon.

In future years, when he looked back on it, Arthur realized that for his own benefit and for the sake of his dignity, he really should have noticed.

It wasn't until Arthur was desperately trying to wrestle his shirt over his head, that Merlin realized this really was _not _a good idea. And as much as his body was resisting and demanding to be allowed to help Arthur with his shirt, Merlin came to the conclusion that was in his sanity's best interests to pull away _now _and get the hell out of there.

So he did.

Leaving a bewildered, but otherwise unfazed, Arthur lying on the couch, Merlin grabbed his coat, straightened his shirt and hurriedly left. On his way out, he mumbled something to Lance about being tired and having coursework to do and that he'd need to get a taxi home.

In truth, Merlin was merely in autopilot. His mind was too busy cursing every little bit of himself for being so stupid to really notice what he was doing. He just really, _really _hoped Arthur wouldn't remember anything.


	2. Chapter 2

**The second chapter! Finally!**

**I'm sorry for the wait - I've had exams, my birthday, revision and real life to juggle, and fic took a temporary back seat. ): But I finally finished my GCSEs yesterday, so all is good! I know have six weeks of nothing to write lots of fic. 8D Yaaaaaay.**

**So, as usual, I don't own any of the characters. ): They all belong to the mighty Beeb.**

**Chapter Summary: In which Arthur confesses his love for Matt Smith, Morgana throws food, Hunith steals Merlin's remaining sanity, and Merlin tortures a coffee cup.**

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"I, Arthur Pendragon, handsome young man and spectacular Rugby player, admit to you, Morgana Pendragon, stroppy pregnant woman and possessor of bad music tastes, that I am, and will forever be, in love with Matt Smith, even with his extreme excess of forehead."

Morgana looked up from spreading butter on her third slice of toast (Arthur had pointed out to her that if she kept it up, she'd be really, really fat, to which she had very maturely responded by throwing the empty box of Cheerios at Arthur's head), and slowly raised an eyebrow at him.

"In addition to this confession that I have deemed you worthy enough to hear, I also admit that I have a strange, bordering on unhealthy, obsession with all things Doctor Who, and am the proud owner of a new life-size cut-out of a Dalek."

"And you chose to grace me with this information, why?"

"Well, Morgana-"

"Actually, no – don't answer that. Just eat your breakfast." Morgana turned back to her toast, laying down her knife delicately.

"But-"

"In silence."

Closing his mouth with a huff, Arthur stuck his tongue out at the top of her head, assuming that because her attention was on that morning's newspaper, she wouldn't notice.

He was wrong.

"In silence, and without the childishness, please, Arthur."

"Yes, Mother." He rolled his eyes, flicking a stray Cheerio at her. It landed silently in the middle of her perfectly buttered piece of toast.

With all the elegance and lady-like skill that only ten summers of finishing school could achieve, she flung the toast at her brother, grinning triumphantly when it landed butter-side down on his clean white t-shirt.

Feeling as though history was repeating itself, Arthur proceeded to declare war and vow to get revenge. He had very quickly come to the conclusion that he was just not destined to wear white.

"What do you mean, that was why you left in a hurry?" Lancelot stared at Merlin in disbelief, mop poised above the bucket of water, all thoughts of mopping up the spilt jam in front of him gone from his mind.

"What do you think I meant?" Merlin scowled at him, placing a bag of sugar a little too forcefully onto the shelf. It shoved all the bags behind it back a few inches.

"Well, I thought I heard you say that you left Morgana's party in a rush, ALONE might I add, because you finally got to make out with Arthur, but I can't be right."

"…I did."

"What the hell were you _thinking_?" As heads snapped around to stare at him in shock, Lancelot lowered his voice down to an angry whisper. "You were practically drooling over him at the party, and when you finally get lucky, you _leave_? God, Merlin, sometimes I wonder how you've survived up until now."

"Hey, that's not fair!" He ignored Lancelot's snort, instead focusing his attention on stacking the shelf. "You weren't the one making out with him! It was just so… overwhelming…"

"Merlin! Enough!" Merlin held back a laugh at Lancelot's grimace. "Please, no more details!"

"Alright, alright." Placing one of the last bags of sugar on the shelf, Merlin shrugged. "Well, at least no one saw." When Lancelot shifted uncomfortably and said nothing, Merlin frowned. "What? What's wrong?"

"About that…"

"Oh God. What?"

"Morgana saw."

Merlin let out a long breath he didn't even know he as holding. "Well that's not so-"

"And she took a picture." Merlin nearly dropped what he was holding. "And sent it to all his contacts."

"Fuck!" Merlin thrust the last remaining bag of sugar on the shelf so quickly it pushed the bag at the back of the shelf off it with force, right into the face of a browsing customer. "Fuck!"

Letting his forehead fall onto the lip of the shelf, Merlin let out a groan. "My life is over!"

"Buck up, mate." Lance placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "It's not all bad – Morgana said her and Arthur's father left his phone at home when he went on a business trip, so he won't have seen it yet."

"Oh my _God._ Kill me now, Lance _please._"

_BLEEP. BLEEP. BLEEEEEEEEEEEEP!_

Groggily, Merlin rolled over in bed, stopping himself from tumbling out the other side quickly. He flung an arm out in the general direction of his bedside table, flapping his hand about in a frantic search for his phone. It was beeping angrily about something, probably an important something, but Merlin was too sleepy to particularly care. When he couldn't seem to locate it, Merlin pulled the covers over his head in the hope that the phone would soon realize that this was not a good time to be bleeping inconsiderately, and shut up.

It did, for ten blissful seconds, before, after seemingly stopping for breath, began again with much more gusto. Silently cursing whoever deemed it necessary to make mobiles so catastrophically loud, Merlin flung back the covers and sat up slowly. Feeling his way to his bedside table, He began to pat the covering of stuff to locate the monstrosity. When he did, he made the mistake of flipping it open. Wincing dramatically at the sudden blinding light, Merlin squinted at the screen.

"You have one new voicemail'

With a long-suffering sigh, Merlin dialed 121 and held the phone to his ear.

/_Received today at 7:54AM./_

7:54? On a Saturday? Whoever left him that message was going to die a very slow and painful death for waking him up so early, Merlin decided, fuming. He listened closely as the phone bleeped, signaling the start of the message. _It better be bloody important…_ He thought bitterly.

/_"Um, hi, it's Arthur. You know, Arthur Pendragon? The one you ran into and nearly decapitated with your pencils?"/_

Merlin let out an angry breath – Arthur had run into _him._ Although, as frustrated as he was, he couldn't help but feel a little gooey inside at the sound of Arthur's voice. Which just resulted in making him even angrier. He strongly resisted putting the phone down.

/_"So, um, I hope you don't mind, but I got your number from Lance, and he seemed a little too eager to give it to me, if I'm honest…. But, whatever. I'm at my sister's flat, and she, uh, showed me the photo she took. You know, the one of us making out?"/_

Did Arthur think he was an idiot? Of course he knew what photo!

/_"Which is actually pretty hot, even though you do look a little crazed… Morgana thought it was funny, but I thought it was kinda cute…."/_

He paused for a moment, and Merlin began to wonder if Arthur was actually going to say anything useful.

/_"So, the reason I called-"/_

Finally.

/_"Was to speak to you about who Morgana sent the photo to. I assume Lance told you it was sent to my father? And I also assume he told you my father was on a business trip and had forgotten his phone?"_/

Merlin's stomach fell. He'd almost forgotten about that. Trust Arthur to be annoying and bring it up.

_/"And I figured we needed a plan of action on how to delete the photo before Father gets a chance to see it."/_

Well, duh.

/_So I'll be coming to your dorm at 8:30 so we can go for coffee to formulate a plan."/_

Merlin checked his clock hurriedly. _Shit. _It was two minutes to eight. Leaping out of bed, phone glued to his ear, Merlin frantically tried to make his room look half-decent. Why he felt he had to, he had no idea, but Merlin had a burning need to look calm and collected when Arthur arrived.

/"_Oh, and this time, please try not to knock me out. Or cover me in paint. Thanks."/_

The bastard.

Merlin glanced at the clock. 8:22. Ha, he was early. He'd had to have the quickest shower he'd ever had in his entire life, and had only had time to throw the dirty laundry that had accumulated across the floor into the wash basket his mother had insisted on buying him to deal with later (looking on it now, Merlin realized just how useful Hunith's purchases could be), but the fact still remained – he was early. Possibly the first time he had ever been early, but still.

Brushing his teeth furiously, Merlin perched on the edge of his freshly changed bed. Deep down, he knew that Arthur wouldn't be able to tell, or care, that Merlin's bed sheets were clean, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Arthur was waiting for him to slip up, or forget something, so he could get him back for the paint-on-shirt incident. Thus, Merlin had decided the best, and only, course of action was to keep everything as perfect (ish) as possible, so Arthur had nothing to work with… It made sense in Merlin's mind.

After depositing his toothbrush in the adjoining bathroom, Merlin plonked himself at his desk, twiddling his thumbs. He stayed like that for several minutes until someone knocked quietly at the door. Leaping up to wrench it open in a way that was possibly too eager, Merlin's face fell.

"Mum!"

"Well, it's a pleasure to see you too, dear." She tutted, bustling her way past him into his room. "Honestly, is that any way to treat your mother?"

"Sorry – I just wasn't expecting you." He closed the door, sighing silently. Where was Arthur?

"Weren't expecting me?" Hunith raised a neat eyebrow. "I always pop round on a Saturday morning." Merlin cursed himself mentally. Of course she did. He'd been so focused on Arthur, as much as he hated to admit it that he'd completely forgotten about his mother's weekly visits. He felt a small stab of guilt at forgetting her. It must have shown on face, because she stepped forward quickly, placing a concerned hand on his forehead. "Are you alright, Merlin? You look a little ill. Are you getting enough sleep? I did tell you they worked you too hard at this place!"

"Mum, it's _Oxford._ Of course there's going to be lots of work. It's practically synonymous with the name."

"Enough of the cheek, Merlin. Is a mother not allowed to worry about her son? Besides, don't try to confuse me with all your fancy words." She frowned at him, tapping her finger gently on his nose. He knew full well that she understood hat he meant – she'd gone to Oxford as well, and got herself an English Language degree. Still, he felt the need to apologise.

"Sorry, Mum."

She waved him off instantly, smiling warmly at her son. "Can I make you a cup of tea, dear?"

"Mum! I'm supposed to offer you! Not the other way around," he huffed, trying to herd her away from the kettle. "Let me look after you for once."

"Nonsense," She said simply. "You're tired – and clearly working too hard. Go and sit down."

Silently, Merlin sat down.

"Now, are you sure you're alright, Merlin?" Although she had her back to him, Merlin could imagine perfectly the look of concern on her face.

"Yes, Mum." He smiled encouragingly. The worried expression did not shift as she carefully handed him a mug.

"Sleeping enough?" He nodded, taking a sip. Somehow, tea that Hunith had made always tasted better than tea Merlin had made, even though he made it exactly the same way. "What about your Magic?" She finished the question at a whisper, her eyes flickering nervously toward the closed door. Ever since he was 15, and they had begun to realize that using his Magic too often exhausted him, and in extreme cases, made him ill, Merlin had promised his mother that he would watch his health and only use his Magic when he had to. They hadn't been able to work out why it affected him so (When he was a child, he used his magic all the time, and it had never affected him), just that it did. "You're not using it too often?" She continued. "And you're looking after yourself when you do?"

"Honestly, Mum, I'm fine." He grinned widely at her, hoping to put her at ease.

She didn't look convinced. "So," she said, cheerily changing the subject. "Found any hot guys you like?"

Merlin spluttered over his tea. "Mum!"

"What? Am I not allowed to ask?" She smiled at him innocently.

"Do you have to ask _like that?_"

Before she got the chance to answer, someone knocked sharply on the door. Checking his watch frantically, Merlin smiled. 8:30 exactly. He jumped toward the door as Hunith moved to open it. "I'll get it!" He cried, right in Arthur's face.

"No need to shout, Merlin." Arthur said simply, looking unfazed.

"Who is it, Merlin?"

"Arthur. He's a…." Merlin struggled over the word, Was Arthur really a friend?

"Friend." Arthur answered for him.

"Male friend?" Hunith sounded far too interested.

"Mum!" Merlin felt his ears go red, and looked away from Arthur's face quickly. He noticed a small smile tugged at Arthur's lips at Merlin's embarrassment.

"Invite him in then! Honestly, have you no manners?"

Arthur grinned, stepping around him into the room. "Yes, Merlin, have you no manners?"

"I have plenty of manners." Merlin muttered weakly, closing the door with perhaps a little too much force. The coat that was hanging on the back of it fell to the floor with a quiet 'flump'. Still grinning, (_The stupid man, _Merlin thought furiously) Arthur picked it up quickly and handed it to him. Feeling childish, Merlin snatched it off him and placed it on the hook again. He pulled a face, which only made Arthur grin more.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Merlin's friend? Hunith called. "Did you say your name was Arthur?"

"Yes, Ma'am. And, tea would be lovely, thank you." He turned to Merlin, an unreadable expression on his face. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Yes, Merlin, introduce us properly." Hunith carefully handed Arthur his tea, smiling a little too warmly at him for Merlin's liking.

"Arthur, this is my mother, Hunith. Mum, this is Arthur Pendragon."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Emrys."

"And you, Arthur. But please, call me Hunith." Hunith continued to smile at Arthur, and Merlin couldn't help but really hate how charming he was. He'd won over his mother in _seconds. _Letting out a small huff, Merlin grabbed his empty mug and stomped into the bathroom to wash it (loudly). He heard his mother give out a small sigh, and scowled deeply. "You know, Arthur, I've been waiting for Merlin to meet such a nice young man such as yourself for some time now…" Merlin gawked at himself in the mirror above the sink – for starters, how on Earth could she tell Arthur was into men so quickly? And secondly, why the hell did she have to be so embarrassing? "I do worry about him sometimes…" She continued, as if Merlin couldn't hear her.

"You needn't worry about him with me, Hunith." Arthur spoke quietly, as if to comfort her. "I was planning on asking him out to dinner this evening, actually."

"Oh, how lovely!"

"WHAT?" Merlin stuck his head around the door, his expression a mixture of much suppressed eagerness, and pure fury. Looking between Arthur's smug face, and his mother's annoyingly pleased one; Merlin really began to question how quickly his sanity was going to run out.

Sitting on the train a few hours later, Merlin crushed the take-away coffee cup between his hands in frustration. He'd spent the previous twenty minutes of the train journey to Arthur's childhood home and Uther's current residence trying desperately to ignore the casual arm that Arthur had on the back of Merlin headrest. He was also furiously trying to suppress the thought that kept cropping up in his stupid, stupid head – if the headrest wasn't there, the jostling of the train would unsettle Arthur's arm, making it fall forward around Merlin's shoulders. Which, as infuriated and ashamed of his own stupidity it made him, Merlin decided he really wouldn't mind. Mentally swearing about every fibre of Arthur's annoyingly appealing being, Merlin twisted the cup in his hands, ignoring the trickle of cold coffee that escaped and dribbled down his wrist.

"What did that poor cup ever do to you, Merlin?" Arthur asked, removing his arm from the back of Merlin's chair to gently take the offending cardboard cup away from him. Merlin looked up sharply as Arthur's fingers lingered at his wrist a moment too long. Arthur quickly covered up the apparent sign of affection by using the cuff of his hoodie to wipe the trickle of coffee away. Merlin watched, slightly confused, as Arthur held the coffee cup in his hands, rather than showing off and tossing it easily into the bin somewhere down the aisle like Merlin thought he would.

"Nothing." He murmured, folding his arms. "How long did you say it would take?" Merlin asked, glancing at his watch. He had a lecture to get to that afternoon.

"Maybe in a minute? Look," Arthur suddenly grabbed Merlin's elbow, pulling him toward the window. "You can just about see the station. See?" Merlin nodded in agreement, too engrossed in the knowledge that Arthur smelt like musky aftershave (something ridiculously expensive, probably), coffee, and something that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but what was just so _Arthur-ish, _that he really didn't care about the proximity of the station.

Almost as Arthur had pulled him across the seat, the train pulled into the station, and people began to shuffle down the aisle toward the exit of the train. Merlin reluctantly moved away from the window, and from Arthur, and followed the other passenger's examples. Pulling his satchel onto his shoulder, he turned to Arthur, who was still sat down, stretching lazily.

"So, uh, I'm following you, 'cause I have absolutely no idea where we're going…." He shifted uncomfortably.

Arthur nodded, standing up slowly. They stood facing each other for several moments before anyone said anything. "I assume you know where the platform is, Merlin?" Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, and it took Merlin a few moments to realize he was stood completely in the way, blocking Arthur from the aisle of the train.

"Oh. Yeah, sorry." He mumbled, blushing furiously. He heard Arthur chuckle quietly behind him. Avoiding looking at anything but the floor, Merlin stumbled onto the platform, cursing himself for not complaining when Arthur guided him through the crowds with a hand on the small of his back.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Arthur looked at him, eyebrow raised, expression confused. "What?"

"No way is that car here for you. Is that- is that a flag? With a crest? Oh dear God, please tell me that is not a Pendragon crest." At Arthur's silence, Merlin spluttered out a small laugh. "It is, isn't it?"

"Well, as a 900 year old family, _Mer_lin, it is only appropriate that the Pendragons have a family crest."

Merlin blinked at him. "Honestly?"

"Just get in the car, Merlin."

"No way is this your house." Merlin gaped through the tinted window as they pulled up in front of what could only be described as a fairy tale castle. He stared blankly as the driver got out of the car and opened the door for him.

"This is my father's house." Arthur said simply, squinting against the sun at the building with a look of faint distaste. "Morgana and I spend the holidays here. Sometimes."

At the unreadable expression on Arthur's face, much akin to the one he had worn in his dorm earlier that day, Merlin decided it would not be a good idea to press the matter. "So, um, you're sure your father isn't at home?"

"He's not due back yet."

"Okay." Merlin said, shoving his hands into his pockets. He followed Arthur as he strode toward the front entrance. "How are we gonna play this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, how are we gonna get in?"

Arthur stared at him for a long moment; such a long moment that Merlin began to feel self-conscious and shifted nervously.

"Through the front door? I have a key, Merlin."

"Oh. Well, when you said we needed to formulate a plan, I figured that involved getting in as well…" He trailed off, realizing his logic didn't make much sense. _Of course he would have a key, you idiot! _He thought to himself.

"Right." Arthur Merely said, unlocking the door. He immediately strode off through the entrance hall (which was far too big for just one man, Merlin decided bitterly), and Merlin had to hurry to keep up with him. He followed Arthur into what Merlin assumed was Uther's study, and he instantly felt uncomfortable. He was momentarily overcome with the feeling that he really, _really _shouldn't be here, and that they could be found at any moment. From the way Arthur had to pause for a moment to get his bearings, Merlin assumed Uther's study was usually out of bounds. This only amplified Merlin's feeling of unease.

He lingered unhelpfully in the doorway as Arthur searched for Uther's phone. His eyes flickered over everything in the room – a large wall-size bookcase on one side, a dark, very old and expensive looking mahogany desk and another closed door on the other. A large map of the world was framed on the wall to Merlin's left. At Arthur's withering look, he stepped into the room.

"Check on his desk, would you?" Merlin nodded, wandering over to the aforementioned object. It was obsessively tidy, with clearly labeled folders and trays containing any pieces of paper. A framed photo caught his eye – a blonde, kind-looking woman stood with whom Merlin assumed was a younger Uther. A dark haired, grinning girl stood in front of the woman, who was cradling a blonde-haired baby to her chest/ Merlin faltered for a moment as he realized what he was looking at – the young girl was Morgana, ad the baby was Arthur. He felt a strong pan of sadness – Lancelot had told him that Arthur's mother had died before Arthur had even started nursery. This must be one of the very few photos they had had taken together as a family.

There were a few other photos – a young Morgana posing with a very expensive looking pony and a polo mallet, a teenaged Arthur in cricket whites with a cricket bat leant casually on his shoulder, his free hand in his pocket, and both of them at what Merlin assumed was their secondary school proms (He hated to admit it, but Arthur looked very attractive in a tuxedo), but they were all pushed to the sides of the desk. The photo of all of them together had been carefully placed in the middle of the desk, in pride of place.

"Found it!" Arthur's triumphant cry broke Merlin out of his thought and he looked up just as someone closed the front door. They looked at each other for a frantic moment as they could hear footsteps and muffled voices coming toward them. Merlin watched, panicking, as Arthur calmly deleted the photo, before placing the phone back where they found it.

"What're we gonna do?" Merlin hissed. "You said he's not due back yet!"

"I have an idea." Arthur grabbed Merlin's hand, ignored his protests, and dragged him toward the closed door Merlin had seen earlier. It finally clicked what it was – a cupboard.

"Oh, no way! There is not way in hell I am going to hide in your father's _cupboard!_"

"Yes, you are. Now come on!" Merlin very quickly changed his mind and let Arthur pull him into the cupboard – he could hear Uther asking someone to bring him a drink just outside the study door. As if in some kind of scripted film, Arthur closed the cupboard door, just as Uther opened his.

Trying to breathe as quietly as possible, Merlin took in their current situation. The stationary-and-filing cupboard was only just big enough for the two men, leaving them no choice but to stand chest to chest, Arthur's hands braced on the wall either side of Merlin's head, Merlin's face about an inch from Arthur's shoulder.

They stood very still for a few minutes, their breathing hushed, but still unbelievably loud in the confined space. As they heard someone enter the room and begin a discussion with Uther, they allowed themselves to breathe normally.

"Merlin?" Arthur whispered, leaning in close so he wouldn't have to speak too loud.

"What?" Merlin desperately tried to ignore the way that Arthur's hushed voice made warmth pool in his stomach.

"Would now be an inappropriate time for me to tell you that I can't stop thinking about you? And how this situation is actually a real turn-on?"

"Anytime would be inappropriate for you to tell me that!" Merlin hissed, trying very had to refrain himself from raising his voice and blowing their cover. "You are _unbelievable!"_ He continued, as Arthur had to struggle to stifle his laughter.

"I mean it though…. The not being able to stop thinking about you part." Arthur murmured, pulling a little closer (if it were at all possible).

"You are still unbelievable. And a prat."

"Well, at least I'm not an idiot."

Letting his head fall heavily against Arthur's shoulder in exasperation, he really, really wished Uther would find something important to do /elsewhere/, so that he could get the hell out of there, and really, really hoped that Arthur couldn't feel the frantic fluttering of his excited heart.


	3. Chapter 3

**The third chapter! Finally! Sorry for the wait. Things got pretty crazy around here. We had prom, the start of the summer, etc etc. Seriously though, I am melting here. ): It's hard to concentrate in this heat. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Merlin, it all belongs to the mighty BBC. I do own the plot though. :D I don't own Blackberry or iPhone, they belong to their respective owners. **

**Summary: In which Arthur considers adopting a cat, Merlin discovers something he probably shouldn't, Uther has a few technological problems, and Leon resorts to bashing his head against the wall.**

**Beta'd by the wonderful lasvegas_lights. Thank you for being awesome. (:**

**Thank you all so much for all the reviews! Enjoy. (:**

* * *

As it turned out, Uther did not find anything important to do elsewhere. No – he took his drink from the waiting butler, sat down at his desk, turned his computer on and linked himself up to a very important sounding video conference.

For an hour and a half.

Now, as Merlin had never had a reason to hang about in a cupboard with another man for a long period of time (or ever, for that matter), he was unaware of how hot it would actually get. The fact that he was wearing a black t-shirt and had Arthur breathing down his neck probably didn't help the cramped situation. He heaved a sigh, only to have Arthur grunt uncomfortably and turn his head away from him.

"Stop breathing in my ear, Merlin." He whined.

"Stop breathing down my neck then." Arthur let out a sulky huff. "Arthur!"

"Sorry! It's just so _hot."_

"Well, whose stupid idea was it to get into the cupboard in the first place?" Merlin grumbled, trying to shift his weight from foot to foot. "I hope you're happy now, Arthur – my leg has gone completely numb. It isn't funny." He retorted quickly as the other man laughed quietly. "The pins and needles are going to be dreadful."

"My legs are fine."

Merlin let out a frustrated sigh. "That's lovely, Arthur."

"I know."

"Please stop talking before I hit you."

"You couldn't hit me even if you tried."

Fighting back the urge to knee Arthur in the groin and run away before he could retaliate (Arthur was a lot bigger than him – Merlin was clever enough to know who would win that fight. He would take his chances against Uther's wrath.), he clenched his teeth together. "And why is that?" He forced out, hands balling into fists at his sides. Arthur's face was just calling for a punch. Of the very hard variety.

"Well," Arthur began, very smugly. "Because I am physically superior to you, in possibly every way – except with ears; yours are definitely bigger than mine – and could easily take you down in any fight." He paused for a moment. "And because you can't get your hands above my waist. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing…."

"You're an idiot."

"That is purely your opinion, Merlin."

"It's true."

"Yeah, _whatever._"

"I can't believe you just said that."

"LEON!" Morgana's shrill shriek pierced through the flat as Leon opened the front door. A strong fear spread like wildfire through him, and instantly assuming Morgana was in pain, he dropped his briefcase, keys and the bottle of milk he'd just bough, abandoned the open front door, and sprinted to their bedroom. He stopped himself from crashing into Morgana at the last moment, skidding to a halt in front of her.

She was stood in the doorway; gripping the doorframe so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Her expression was pinched, as if she were in pain.

"What? What's wrong, sweetheart? Are you hurt? Is it the baby?" Leon quickly placed a hand on Morgana's stomach, his heart racing when he felt nothing move. After a short moment of sheer panic, he let out a slow breath. Two sharp kicks.

"The baby's fine. But it won't be when it's born." Morgana's voice was steady, and she looked Leon directly in the eye.

"What? Why ever not? What's wrong? Ow!" Leon rubbed his shoulder and frowned. "What was that for?" Morgana punched him again. "Ow!"

"How can you not see what's wrong?" She hissed. "This place," She gestured at the apartment around her. "Is not fit for a baby!"

Leon looked around at the apartment. He couldn't see anything wrong with it. Sure he had yet to re-paint the bathroom after they'd had a new one put in a few weeks ago, but that was hardly major. "You want me to re-decorate?" He quickly dodged another punch aimed for his shoulder.

"Of course I want you to re-decorate!" She paused for a moment, her breathing heavy. Her expression changed quickly, and Leon gathered her in his arms before she started to cry. He'd learnt the warning signs very early on in her pregnancy – as soon as the bottom lip started to tremble, alarm bells rang in his head. She'd gotten particularly cranky and snappy in her pregnancy, but Leon knew it wasn't deliberate. "I'm sorry." She mumbled, wrapping her arms around him tightly. "I just want everything to be perfect."

"I know. It's alright. I'll go and get some paint and things this weekend, okay?" He stroked her hair comfortingly.

She pulled back a little to look at him, frowning deeply. "That late?"

Leon blinked at her for a moment. "Well, I've got lots of work to do…" At the expression on her face, he sighed internally. "You want me to take the rest of the week off and start tomorrow?

She grinned widely, nodding furiously. He rolled his eyes a little, not managing to move quickly enough to avoid the annoyed poke to his ribs.

"The things I do for you…"

"Hey, I'm carrying your child for you, Leon. Have some respect."

"Yes, your majesty."

"Much better." She let out a contented sigh, resting her chin on Leon's shoulder. Looking down the corridor toward the door, she frowned. "Why is there milk all over the floor?"

Leon tensed noticeably. "Absolutely nothing to do with me."

"That carpet is hideous anyway. Who has peach colored carpet?"

"Um. We do?"

"Not for much longer, we don't." Morgana pulled away from him, staring down at the carpet with strong distaste. "How quickly do you think we could get wooden floor put in?"

With a groan, Leon let his head fall into his hands. "You're gonna be the death of me, Morgana."

"I know. But I do it beautifully."

Arthur was at Morgana's flat. Again. She'd called him three times while he had been in the shower that morning, and had left three increasingly impatient messages on his phone. He'd thought it would be a good idea to not phone her back like she had demanded in the messages and just turn up at her apartment just to spite her. He'd very quickly changed his mind and wished he'd called when she launched herself at him with surprising speed, hit him repeatedly with the magazine she'd been holding and told him (very loudly) that he was a complete idiot and informed him that she thought he'd _died._

He'd very politely asked her what she thought he would've been doing in the early hours of the morning that would involve him dying, but she'd told him (rather rudely, he thought) to shut the hell up and sit down.

"What did you want me here for anyway, Morgana?" Arthur sat down heavily on the sofa, only to have Morgana scream something incomprehensible and haul him off the sofa. "What? You told me to sit down!"

"_You sat on my fabric samples!"_ She hissed, throwing them at him. Lots of small, different-colored pieces of fabric fluttered around him for a moment, before landing silently at his feet.

"Fabric samples? What do you want them for?" Arthur crouched down and quickly gathered all the pieces of material off the floor. He placed them carefully on the coffee table, and, deciding to avoid the wrath of Morgana for sitting on something else, sat on the floor.

"To sample fabric."

"Well, I guessed that." He tutted, leaning back on his hands and crossing his ankles. "What do you need the fabric for?"

"I convinced Leon he wanted to re-decorate." Morgana sat down on the sofa slowly, one hand gently lain over her stomach.

"Again?" Before Morgana could retort, Arthur's phone began to demand attention from his pocket. Wrestling with his jeans for a few seconds to free his phone, Arthur frowned.

"Who is it?"

"Father."

Morgana snorted. "Have fun with that."

"Thanks." Arthur braced himself before tapping 'answer'. "Father."

_/"Arthur! Do you normally take that long to answer your phone? It's bad manners."/_

Arthur's jaw tensed in frustration – Uther always had some small comment about how he did things. Everything he did these days seemed to be bad manners. At Morgana's questioning look, he shook his head once, and she returned to flicking through a design magazine. "I couldn't get it out of my pocket."

_/"I did tell you those jeans were too small."/ _Arthur pulled a face, which got a snort out of Morgana. How did Uther know which jeans he was wearing?

"They're fine." Arthur ground out. "I'm sat down. So it's hard."

_/"Well, then."/_

There was a moment of an awkward silence as neither man had anything to respond with. Arthur coughed quietly. "Why was it you called, father?"

_/"This damn phone."/ _Arthur frowned.

"Oh?"

_/"Mm. I know Gaius sent me a text confirming the times for our meeting tomorrow. I went to check my inbox, but all my texts were gone! And I know for a fact I had several unread texts from Morgana – now I'll never know what they said!"/_

"I'm sure it wasn't anything important." Arthur cursed silently – in his haste to delete the text from Uther's phone, he'd just selected "delete all", when he'd realized he hadn't had enough time to scroll through all the texts – Uther was a surprisingly avid texter – to find the right one. "Maybe it's just the phone?" Arthur said hopefully.

_/"I expect so. I knew I should have bought that iPhone instead."/_

"Yeah. They're a lot better than… what is it you have now?" Arthur asked, trying to move the conversation on quickly.

_/"I don't even know. Some kind of fruit?"/_

"Oh! A blackberry!"

_/"Yes. You don't happen to know how to get back texts do you, Arthur?"/_

"No!" Arthur said, too loudly. He faintly heard Uther sigh long-sufferingly.

_/"Don't shout, Arthur, it's-"/_

"Bad manners I know."

_/"Not only did I come back to that – someone's been in my cupboard and made a right mess of things!"/_

"Oh, how dreadful! Well, um, I have to go – I'm late for a lecture. Bye now!" Arthur hung up quickly, letting out a long breath. "Sometimes, Morgana, I really, _really, _dislike you." He sighed heavily, wondering how on Earth his life had got so annoyingly complicated.

"Yes, I'm sure you've told me that before."

"Numerous times, but it's still true." Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he sat silently for a moment. "So, what's Leon doing?"

"Last time I saw him, he was bashing his head against the wall in frustration." She said calmly, without looking up from her magazine.

"Of course he is. Where will I find him? I think I might join him."

Morgana waved her hand vaguely in the direction of her bedroom. "Be my guest."

Merlin stared at his phone disbelievingly. It proudly declared that he had two missed calls from Arthur. It was ringing now, and Merlin struggled for a moment over whether he should answer it or not. Idly running a hand through his hair, he let out a frustrated huff. _To hell with it! _He thought, picking up the phone.

"Arthur. I hope there's a good reason why you called. I thought I made it clear that after your stupid escapade in the cupboard-"

_/"Do you normally take that long to answer your phone, Merlin?"/ _Arthur cut across him. _/"It's-"/_ He stopped suddenly, going silent.

"What?" Merlin bristled at Arthur's words. "It's what, Arthur?"

_/"Nothing. Nothing."/ _

"Then why did you trail off? God, Arthur, sometimes you are so _infuriating._" Merlin ground his teeth together. "Could you just finish your sentence?"

_/"It's nothing. I… I just reminded myself of my father, alright?"/_ Arthur snapped.

Ah. _Bollocks. _Merlin fell silent, feeling like a complete moron. Over the course of his time in the cupboard, and from the way Arthur had acted at the house, Merlin had got the impression that Arthur and his father didn't exactly see eye-to-eye.

_/"Anyway."/_ Arthur broke the silence slowly, drawing over the word. _/"I called to let you know that you dropped your wallet when you left my father's house. I think it was in your back pocket?"/_

"Yeah. I did wonder where I'd put that." In reality, Merlin had completely freaked out when he'd gone to buy lunch, only to find it wasn't there. He'd spent his entire lecture stressing over what some stranger could be buying with his credit card. "Do you have it?"

_/"Yeah, it's right in front of me. Nice photo on your driving license, by the way."/ _Arthur sniggered quietly.

"You went though my wallet?" Merlin had to fight very hard against himself to keep from shouting. "You prat! How dare you!"

Arthur merely chuckled. _/"Do you want me to bring it over?"/_

"No, I do not." Merlin sniffed, banging his fist on his knee in frustration. "I'll come over and pick it up. Which room are you in?"

_/"On the floor above you. Room 227."/_

"Right." Merlin scribbled it down on his hand quickly. "I'll be up there in a minute. Just before hanging up, he scowled deeply. "Don't even think about going through my wallet again!" Arthur was still laughing when Merlin snapped his phone shut. "What a wanker!" He growled, forcefully pushing his chair away from his desk. It teetered on two legs, before settling back onto four with a small thud.

He sighed heavily, gripping his hair in his hands in desperation. When things had got this bloody annoying, he had no idea. Ignoring the fact that his hair was now sticking up at all angles; he made his way up to Arthur's room. _Let's get this over and done with already…_

"You know, Merlin," Arthur said slowly, stirring milk into their tea. "I've been debating whether I should adopt a cat."

Merlin looked up from the newspaper he'd pinched from Arthur's desk, his expression extremely confused. "You what?" He'd turned up at Arthur's room with every intention of staying firmly in the corridor, and making Arthur pass him the wallet, and then leaving. The whole ordeal was only meant to take five minutes; ten at a push.

It hadn't exactly gone as Merlin had planned. Arthur had been his usual stupid, prattish, charming self, inviting Merlin in for a cup of tea. He'd tried to refuse, but Arthur had insisted. So, half an hour later, Merlin was sprawled in Arthur's desk chair, absent-mindedly flicking through that day's newspaper while Arthur made the tea.

"A cat. I want to adopt one." Arthur repeated, in a tone that suggested Merlin was an idiot.

"You can't keep animals in the rooms, you pillock." He took the offered mug, resting it gently on his knee.

"I wouldn't get it this year." Arthur tutted. "When I get my own place next year."

Merlin frowned. "Why do you want a cat anyway? Dogs are so much better."

"I can't exactly leave a dog on it's own all day, can I?" Arthur rolled his eyes, taking a large gulp of tea. He drained the mug quickly, much to Merlin's surprise. As he stood up to wash his mug, Merlin snorted.

"No way did you just drink that entire mug of tea." Arthur showed him the empty mug, his expression smug. "Okay, Maybe you did. That's insane."

"No, Merlin, _you're _insane." He laughed loudly as Merlin attempted to swat him with the newspaper and keep his tea from spilling over at the same time. Arthur leapt nimbly out the way into the bathroom, ignoring a now disgruntled Merlin.

"Why do you want a cat, anyway?" Merlin spun around on the chair, carefully placing his half-full mug on the coaster. Well, he assumed it was a coaster – it was a square of torn paper with lots of mug stains on it. He drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk, looking at the mountain of textbooks sprawled across the wood. Advanced Maths. Advanced Further Maths. Engineering Maths. Merlin let out a low whistle – the work looked hard. One peek in the top book proved as much.

"Well." Arthur seemed to struggle over his words. "I get lonely sometimes."

Merlin snorted again. "Lonely? But you have loads of friends." He moved a stack of work gently out the way to look at something underneath. A red folder was hidden (badly) under what Merlin assumed was Arthur's coursework. It was neatly labeled "Photos – Black and White".

"They're not exactly friends to talk to – we go out, get drunk, and that's about it."

"So, you'd talk to a cat instead?" Merlin glanced over his shoulder to check if Arthur was still in the bathroom – he was – before flicking open the folder. As soon as he did, he understood why they were hidden. As he looked through them, his frown grew, his heart racing. They were all candid shots. Two of Morgana, one of Arthur's group of friends after what he presumed was a Rugby match, and, much to his shock – six of him. Two of him on campus with his sketchbook, one of him laughing in the queue for coffee with Lancelot, and three of him walking or running to places. From the way he was wearing different clothes, he could assume this had been an ongoing thing. "Arthur."

"What?" Merlin looked up as Arthur came out of the bathroom. He remained silent as he saw Arthur's face pale. "Where did you find those?" His voice shook.

"On your desk." Merlin's expression remained impassive as he continued. "Why are they photos of me?" Arthur bit his lip and said nothing. "Arthur! Why are there photos of me?" In a rage, he threw the photos the photos at Arthur, who instantly dropped down to carefully pick them up.

"I… can explain."

"You better!" Merlin stood up and backed toward the door, away from Arthur. "You better explain _right now._"

"Just give me a chance, Merlin." Arthur bit his lip again, his face crestfallen. "Sit down, and I'll tell you."

"I'll stand, thanks."

"Suit yourself." Arthur sighed, sitting heavily on his bed. Slowly, he looked up at Merlin, expression desperate. Merlin stayed by the door. Faltering over his words, he began to explain, He told Merlin how he had never truly known his mother; how she'd died two weeks before his fourth birthday. He explained how he couldn't even remember her face; how Uther had taken down all the photos of her (Merlin's mind quickly flicked to the photo on Uther's desk, but he remained silent.), and never spoken about her, even when Arthur had begged him to. He hated himself because he couldn't remember _anything _about her; not even whether it was her he got his blonde hair from, or her smile, or how she spoke. He told him how on his fifteenth birthday, a relative had commented on how much he looked like his mother; and how that had been the first time anyone had ever mentioned her to him. It made him feel even worse – he got so angry, and would constantly ask himself how it was fair that everything else knew her, but he, her only son, knew _nothing. _He explained how he vowed to himself that he'd never forget about important to him ever again; anyone he cared about. That's why he started taking the photos, so, if he ever started to lose the memories he had, he could look at the photos and remember everything.

Merlin blinked and said nothing for a moment. He never would have guessed that; not from the way Arthur presented himself. "I…" Arthur looked up at him hopefully. "…Am such an idiot." Merlin sat down in Arthur's chair again. "So… you're not stalking me?"

Arthur let out a small laugh. "No, I'm not stalking you." His expression hardened suddenly. "I've never told anyone about the photos before, Merlin. Not even Morgana knows. I'd prefer it to stay that way."

"Why ever not? Arthur, they're really good! You've really captured the emotions in the photos." He pointed to the one of the Rugby team. "Like, in that one, you can tell that there's a lot of pride in there. From you, and the players."

Arthur shook his head. "They're not for anyone but me to see." He folded his arms, and they sat in silence for a moment. Suddenly, Arthur picked up the Rugby photo, looking at it closely. "You really think that? You really think it's that good?"

"As an artist, I know it's really good." He couldn't help but smile as Arthur's face lit up. "You should think about showing some of these in a gallery or something." At Arthur's expression, he quickly added, "Anonymously of course."

Arthur looked back down at the photos. "Hmm. I don't know…"

"They'd look really good blown up and put in frames." Merlin gestured wildly with his hands, and Arthur laughed at his enthusiasm.

"Maybe. I'll think about."

"Okay. Only do what you're comfortable with though, yeah?"

"Yeah." Merlin watched as Arthur carefully placed all the photos back into the folder.

"Arthur?"

"Mm?"

"Does that mean you care about me then?" He avoided Arthur's gaze. "You said that you took photos of people you cared about and you didn't want to forget. And well, there are six of me…" He trailed off, blushing furiously.

"Yes. It does."

"Oh. Well, that's good."

"Good?" Arthur looked at him quizzically, as if you ask if he really meant it.

"Yeah. He nodded smiling a little. "It's good."


	4. Chapter 4a

**Hi tharr! I'm sorry for the huuuuge wait. ): Things have honestly been insane. With results and college enrollment and generally madness, it's been hard to find the time to write anything. And, as I've been ridiculously lazy, I figured I'd split this chapter in two so you had something to read. (:**

**Enjoy!**

**Title: **The Meaning of Courage**  
Summary: **In which Arthur co-ordinates his outfits, Merlin has a revelation, Morgana insists on spending lots of money on things she doesn't need, and Gwen questions her ability to make friends with normal people.  
**Disclaimer: **The only thing I own is the plot. ): All the rest belongs to the mighty BBC.

* * *

"Morgana!" Arthur shouted, staring dismally into the pile of clothes he had thrown on his bed. "_Morgana!_"

"What?" Morgana spun around on his desk chair, hands folded delicately on her stomach. "Why the shouting? I'm just here!" She frowned.

"I have no clothes! _No clothes!_" Arthur threw part of the pile of laundry in the air in exasperation; roughly pulling a stray pair of jeans off his shoulder that had inconsiderately landed there.

"No clothes?" Morgana let out a small bark of laughter. "Arthur, you have more clothes than _me, _and that's saying something!"

"Okay, so, maybe I do have lots of clothes." Arthur sighed and perched precariously on the edge of his bed – the only bit that wasn't covered in the contents of his wardrobe. Morgana raised an eyebrow slowly. "Fine, I have too many clothes."

"Then what's the catastrophic problem that you dragged me out of pregnant-lady yoga for?"

"Pregnant-lady yoga?" Arthur parroted, finally turning his attention away from his "dilemma". "Leon told me you were sat on the sofa with a bag of Doritos watching Jeremy Kyle re-runs."

"That_ is _pregnant-lady yoga." Morgana said matter-of-factly. "I'm not supposed to exert myself."

"Getting a cab is not exactly exerting yourself."

"I had to walk from the cab to your flat." She unfolded her arms over her stomach, idly inspecting her immaculate fingernails.

"And that was what, two hundred metres?" Arthur snorted, bracing his feet on the floor in an attempt to balance himself. I was nearly eleven o'clock and he still hadn't gotten dressed – he'd sat for three hours merely in boxers and a t-shirt, fretting about what to wear. He'd spent the previous evening debating whether it would be a good idea to invite Merlin out for coffee after his morning lecture or not, and he'd wanted to look perfect (in an effort to impress Merlin so much he would instantly say yes).

"So," Morgana breathed elegantly changing the subject. "Why the sudden worries about your outfit? You don't normally care how awful you look."

Had Morgana not been pregnant, Arthur would have thrown something at her. A very hard something. But, as it was, Morgana was pregnant, and therefore it would be frowned upon if he were to throw harmful things in her direction. Like a clock, for example. Or a mobile phone. Arthur weighed up a pair of balled-up socks in his hand, thinking about how satisfying it would be to get them in Morgana's face.

"All jokes aside, Arthur, why are you so worried about clothes all of a sudden?"

"I want to impress someone."

"Right…" They sat in silence for a moment until Morgana tutted loudly. "Would you care to expand on that? Who on Earth is this 'someone'?"

Arthur looked down at the socks in his hand, absent-mindedly picking at a loose thread. "Merlin."

Morgana blinked. "I thought he hated you."

"He did." Arthur said cheerfully, looking back up at Morgana with a wide grin. "And now he doesn't."

"Of course. How stupid of me." She rolled her eyes. Suddenly, she kicked Arthur's shin – hard. "Tell me what's going on, you idiot!"

"Ow! Jesus Christ, Morgana, what the hell was that for?" Clutching his leg (Winter boots _hurt, _goddamit), he gave up following all ethical rules and flung the socks at her. They flew over her shoulder and almost knocked over her glass of water, (to her disgust, the doctor had advised her to give up tea during her pregnancy. The phrase, "Its _torture!_" was becoming a common occurrence in every conversation.) but he still felt a little bit better for it.

"When a girl asks you about who you're impressing, you don't just give them a name! You need to expand and tell me _everything!_" She gestured wildly with her hands, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "God, you are such a man." She hissed, as if it were an insult.

"Well, obviously." He frowned, leaning back on the clothes on his bed. They were surprisingly comfortable. He sighed heavily. "I wanted to ask him out for coffee or something, and I figured that because he's as stroppy as you sometimes," He ignored the death-glare she shot in his direction. "I'd make an effort to look good, because going dressed like this," He gestured to his half-naked self vaguely. "Is bound to annoy him."

Morgana nodded slowly, looking far too wise for her own good. She heaved herself to her feet, shoved Arthur off the bed and began to rummage through the pile of clothes. "Well, if you're trying to impress him, wear these," She threw a pair of dark jeans at him. He only just managed to catch them before they were in his face. "And this. It'll bring out the colour of your eyes." A light blue t-shirt came flying at him next (he vaguely remembered Leon giving him it for his birthday earlier in the year. "It's Hollister," he'd said, as if Hollister was the only acceptable brand of clothing to wear. "People like that."). "And wear this over the top. It looks sophisticated. Sort of." Morgana handed him the black suit jacket he'd worn to her engagement party.

"Um. Thanks." He stood awkwardly in the middle of his room.

"Have you showered today?"

"Yes."

"Right. Go and change then. And shave!" She called after him, sitting down at his desk again.

"I already have!"

"Shave again."

Arthur exited the bathroom five minutes later, after having not shaved again (once was enough, thanks). Morgana sat quietly for a moment, before nodding once.

"You'll do."

Merlin's morning had been interesting, to say the least. He'd been woken up by his phone ringing loudly (if it was a message from Arthur again, Merlin was going to kill him.). He'd debated not answering it, and was leaning very strongly toward leaving it and going back to sleep, when he'd thought about who it could be – if it was his mother, and he didn't answer, she'd panic and think he was dead (Hunith was known for over-reacting), and he'd never hear the end of it. Groaning, he'd grabbed his mobile, flipped it open, and wedged it between the pillow and his head (Mainly so he wouldn't have to hold it, because he was lazy like that.).

"Hello?"

"_Ah, Merlin. Finally. What took you so long to answer?"_

"Freya?" He'd sat up at the sound of her voice, eyebrows creasing in concern. Freya was his mother's next door neighbour, and Merlin had grown up with her and her older brother, Will, (Who had been his best friend _forever)_ and she only ever called him in an emergency – Hunith was a very proud woman, and would only ever tell Merlin about things if it involved him, so Merlin had convinced Freya to keep him in the loop, and let him know whenever something happened. "What's wrong?"

"_It's your Mum. Now, don't get all panicky and insist on coming home – she's with Mum." _Merlin relaxed a little at that – if anyone could look after his mother when he wasn't there, it was Will's mother.

"What happened?"

"_Your father," _Freya spat the word out as if it had tasted bad. _/"Came around to your mum's a few days ago. Everything was pretty quiet, so no one really thought anything of it – although Mum had a lot to say about it."/ _Will's mother's hatred for Merlin's father was well known throughout the village. He'd messed Hunith around far too many times, and as a true friend, Francesca had boycotted Balinor at every possibility.

Merlin had clenched his fist at his side, quietly fuming. How dare he come back? After what he'd done? The _bastard! _As much as he'd hated to admit it, Merlin was a little angry with his mother for taking him back.

"_They were arguing for most of last night – I think the whole village heard them. Mum said he left early this morning, and…." _She trailed off.

"And? And what?"

"_It looked like he'd been on the drink again."_

Merlin'd swore. Loudly. "She's alright though? He didn't-" He cut off quickly – Hunith had made him promise not to tell _anyone _about that.

Freya hadn't commented on his faltered sentence, and Merlin had been thankful for that. _"A little shaken up. There's been a lot of crying. From what I can gather, he said some downright nasty shit."_

"Bastard! Tell her I'm coming home – I'll be back as soon as I can."

"_She said you'd say that. And she also told me to make you promise not to come home until the holidays."_

"But-"

"_But nothing." _Freya's tone had been firm. _"We've got her here. Everything's under control. Mum's looking after her, and if I'm honest, I don't think your mum wants you to see her like this."_

"You're sure she'll be okay with you? Can I not talk to her?"

"_She's sleeping. Look, just ring her up this evening. Honestly, she'll be fine. You can trust us."_

Merlin had talked to Will about it in their Art session (In college, they'd decided that, as best friends, it would only be appropriate to got to University together, and Will had been determined to get into Oxford with Merlin, despite having no interest in taking Art beyond A-level. "It's all impressionist shit," he'd said, when they'd applied. "It's a complete waste of time, mate, but I might as well.") And he'd offered to go back to Ealdor and "beat the crap out of the bastard". Merlin had unwillingly declined.

As if his day couldn't get much worse, he'd gone into the Art session thinking he was pretty prepared for the Christmas deadline, only to be told that he was, in fact, very behind. Even Will had done more than him – which was just wrong, and Hell was probably freezing over.

He walked out of the art studio in a foul mood, his thoughts entirely focused on how much work he had to do in the three remaining weeks of term, and how much satisfaction he would get out of killing his father. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he only noticed Arthur when he walked into him. If it hadn't been for Arthur's quick reflexes, Merlin would have lost another box of pencils to gravity, and all of his work would have been thrown across the floor.

"Careful, Merlin!" To Merlin's shock, Arthur's tone wasn't even slightly annoyed.

"Sorry! I wasn't concentrating." Looking Arthur up and down in what he hoped was a subtle way (but probably wasn't), he wasn't surprised that Arthur looked amazing (even thought Morgana always had something to say about how he dressed, everyone else on the planet firmly believed that Arthur could wear anything and pull it off.)

"I noticed. You're going to your room, yeah?"

"Yeah…" Merlin frowned a little as Arthur proceeded to carry the majority of Merlin's almost-dropped Art supplies down the corridor (not that he was particularly complaining – his supplies were bloody heavy, but still.). He quickly hurried after him, waving off Will's look of 'Um, what just happened?' with a quick, "I'll tell you later."

"So, Merlin," Arthur began, when Merlin had caught up with him. _Oh God, _Merlin thought. _That sounds ominous – I can't deal with this as well right now. _"How're you?"

Oh. "I'm good?" At Merlin's uncertain tone, Arthur gave him a questioning, yet withering, look. "Okay, so I'm not good. I'm actually pretty shit."

"Really? What's wrong?" Arthur turned his head to look at him, concerned about his tone. Merlin sounded genuinely down.

Merlin let out a heavy sigh, sticking his hands in his pockets. "It's a bit of a long story, actually."

Feeling that now would be an excellent time to ask, Arthur made a point of checking his watch (he didn't want Merlin to know that he'd made sure he didn't have anything to do that day so he could ask Merlin out. It would completely ruin his appearance.) "I've got time. Fancy getting a coffee and you can tell me about it?"

Arthur couldn't help but feel very proud of himself when Merlin smiled that small, subtle smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth, that did strange things to Arthur's mind and that he couldn't stop thinking about, and nodded. "Coffee would be great."

It wasn't quite the scenario that Arthur had had in mind, but it would do. Seeing the way that Merlin's shoulders relaxed at the prospect of talking, Arthur smiled. Yes, it would do.


	5. Chapter 4b

**Here it is! Finally! *Hides* I'm sorry it's been so long. A mixture of college work, illness, snow and laziness is not good for my muse. ^^'**

**I still don't own any of the characters, they all belong to the mighty BBC. I just own the plot. (:**

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Merlin'd never had a revelation before, and he reckoned that no one he knows has ever had one either, so he didn't really know what to expect, but he was pretty sure that this is what it feels like. Arthur had taken him for coffee, and Merlin had had a small nagging feeling at the back of his mind ever since he'd agreed to go and tell the blonde what was bothering him. It was only when they'd both sat down with their mugs in one of the small alcoves in the cafe and Arthur had assured him that Merlin could tell him everything and it would help, Merlin understood.

Merlin trusted him. Completely and utterly. He sat in shock for a few moments, trying desperately to work out when this change had come about. He slowly began to explain to Arthur about the phone call he'd had that morning, the amount of times he'd had to comfort hi mother because of his father's selfishness, that his father had left them when he was still just a kid, and how Merlin hated him, and always would hate him, no matter what, because...

He didn't notice he'd trailed off into silence until Arthur put down his mug and said, "Because...? It's alright, Merlin, you can tell me." Merlin looked down at the table, avoiding the blonde's gaze. He'd promised his mother he'd would /never/ tell anyone about this. He'd never even told Will, even though Will's mum knew already, so why did he feel so desperate to tell Arthur? To get it off his chest? So Arthur could help him come to terms with it? He wasn't sure. He looked up slowly as Arthur gently placed a hand on Merlin's, his expression calm.

"Because..." Merlin let out a slow breath as his resolve slowly broke. "Because he used to hit her." He whispered. "He used to hit her, and I could do absolutely nothing about it." The hand under Arthur's clenched into a fist, as Merlin felt the familiar burn of rage growing within him. As a kid, he'd always been so angry with himself for not doing anything about it for so long. "I hated myself for years - almost as much as I hated him for doing it to her." He didn't respond when Arthur began to calmly rub Merlin's hand with his thumb, in an attempt to comfort him, never once taking his eyes away from Merlin's face.

"When I turned sixteen, and she started taking the blows that were aimed at me, I put my foot down and gave him an ultimatum - Get out, or I'd throw him out."

"And did he get out?"

"Oh yeah, he got out."

* * *

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Gwen asked, her face concerned. "They'll think we're stalking them."

"Nonsense, Gwen, of course we should be doing this." Morgana said matter-of-factly, sneaking into the cafe in what she hoped was a subtle way (It wasn't. Pregnant women and subtle don't generally go together - especially not in Morgana's case.). "This appears to be the first time that my brother has shown any sign of maturity and thinking about someone other than himself - I_ cannot_ miss this."

Gwen merely rolled her eyes, attempting to quietly cart all of Morgana's shopping bags (Morgana had claimed that the doctor told her not to exert herself -which was fine, but Morgana had seemed perfectly capable of running at high speed up a flight of stairs when she spotted someone else eyeing up the bedside lamp she wanted.) into the cafe and toward an empty table that Morgana had already seated herself at.

"Just sit and watch, Gwen. You'll understand my reasoning soon enough." Morgana looked smug, settling herself down in her chair, hands folded over her stomach.

* * *

"Merlin," Arthur said gently. The other boy did not look up. "Merlin." He carefully tilted Merlin's chin up so he had no choice but to look at him. He frowned a little when he continued to avoid his gaze. "Look at me." Blue eyes reluctantly settled on his face. "You don't need to feel ashamed. Not around me."

"I just feel so _helpless_. She won't let me help her. When I heard she'd let him back into the house, after _everything_ he's put her through..." He clenched his teeth together against the anger, eyes drifting back down to the table. "I can't believe he'd come back! He waited until I wasn't around and slid back into her life, and she... she _let_ him!" he growled. His eyes quickly snapped back up to Arthur's when the blonde gently placed a hand on the side of his face, fingers tangling into his hair.

"It's alright to be angry, Merlin." Arthur smiled calmly. "It's alright to be angry at your father, and it's alright to be angry at your mother - I know you're worried about her." He watched as Merlin's expression slowly changed from anger, to confusion, before settling on desperation. "Come here."

Without thinking, Merlin shifted around the bench-chair to envelope himself in Arthur's open arms. He buried his head in Arthur's shoulder and breathed in his oddly comforting scent. As much as he tried to fight them back, he couldn't stop the tears dripping onto Arthur's jacket, and he clung to Arthur's sleeve in embarrassment.

"It's alright, Merlin." Arthur rested his chin on the top of Merlin's head. "It's alright," He murmured, rubbing Merlin's arms in what he hoped was a comforting way. It only seemed to make Merlin grip his shirt more, so, in a attempt to resolve the situation, he did what his nanny had done to him when he was upset as a kid, and kissed the top of Merlin's head.

It seemed to work, until Arthur jumped in shock at a mug crashing into the floor behind him. Arms still wrapped around Merlin, (who's sobs had now dwindled to adorable sounding sniffles), Arthur snapped his head around to see what the hell had happened. When he saw who had dropped the mug, he was not in the least bit pleased.

"Morgana! What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Shit."

* * *

"I can't _believe _you would follow me! And eavesdrop on my conversations!" Arthur stood in the hallway of Morgana's flat, hands on his hips.

"I can't believe you're capable of looking after someone other than yourself!"

"Morgana – this is _serious! _That was a very personal conversation you were nosing your way into! Do you seriously have no regard for other people's privacy?"

"Arthur, I'm being serious!" She countered quickly, placing her hands on her own hips. As he continued, her resolve faltered, and she had the decency to look sheepish. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I was just interested to know whether it was going well between you two." She held her arms out for a hug, her expression genuinely sorry. "Forgive me?"

At first a little suspicious, Arthur hesitated before moving toward her. As she enveloped him in a hug, he made the mistake of lowering his guard. Almost as soon as Morgana felt him relax a little against her, she leapt into action. She pulled back from him, pecked him on the cheek affectionately and ushered him into the living room.

"Why don't you sit down here," She pushed him down onto the sofa. "I'll make a cup of tea, and you can tell me all about it." Bustling off into the kitchen, she ignored his protests of 'It's none of your business', instead, continuing to steamroll through the conversation.

"Gwen and I went shopping today," Morgana said, as if Arthur had no idea. "I bought some gorgeous baby clothes, and a new lamp for the living room. It'll go wonderfully with the new colour scheme."

Arthur looked up suddenly from his brooding, confusion clear on his face. "You what? A new colour scheme? As opposed to the one who put into action last week? You're not re-decorating again are you?" _Poor Leon, _he thought sympathetically.

"Of course we are." She snapped, thrusting a mug of tea at him with so much force, a little sloshed over the edge. "We have a baby to consider now, Arthur. We can hardly raise a child in the this place." Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

Arthur looked around the room several times, taking in the perfectly chosen colours, precisely placed furniture and specifically chosen flowers on the polished coffee table. "…Of course you can't. I wouldn't force this on my worst enemy." He mocked, tutting loudly. "Honestly, Morgana, what's wrong with it?"

Morgana scowled at him, dropping smoothly into a chair. "I wouldn't expect _you _to understand, Arthur." She tutted, sipping at her fruit tea. "Now," She pressed, her face lit up with a pleasant smile. "Why don't you tell me about hat happened today?"

"Morgana, it's none of your business."

"He's not going to know you told me, is he?" She said simply, resting her mug carefully on her knee.

"Maybe not, but if I tell you, which I won't, I'll feel awful every time I see him." Arthur folded his arms defiantly, trying desperately to end the conversation.

"I'll find out from someone. Lancelot will tell me."

"You hardly know Lance." He scolded. "He wouldn't tell you even if you were his best friend. He's far too loyal to Merlin for that. And," He continued, his expression serious. "He probably knows that he'd have me to deal with if he told people about Merlin's personal life if he didn't want him to."

There was a pause for a moment as Morgana took in what her brother had just told her. Trying desperately to find a witty response, she closed her lips into a thin line. Her face slowly relaxed into surprised as realization dawned on her. "You really like him, don't you?"

A sheepish smile spread across Arthur's face, a small blush tinting his cheeks a faint pink. "Yeah, I guess I really do."

* * *

Lancelot watched, faintly amused, as Merlin threw a bag of frozen chicken into the freezer with far more force than it deserved. He continued to watch as Merlin winced at the loud sound it made as it hit the other bags of food, and very gently placed the next bag on top of it. Lancelot could've sworn he heard him mumble 'sorry'.

As Merlin weighed up another bag of frozen food, seemingly testing how hard he could throw it, Lancelot decided that now would be a good time to step in, and he carefully took the bag from Merlin's hand.

"What has that chicken ever done to you, Merlin?" Lancelot asked softly, placing a comforting hand on Merlin's tense shoulder.

"It _existed._" He spat viciously, in a tone that shocked both Lancelot and himself. "Um. Sorry about that." He blinked at the bag of frozen food in Lancelot's hand. "Not quite sure where that came from."

"Neither am I." Lancelot placed the food in the large freezer before quietly closing the door. "You've not been yourself all morning. What's wrong?"

Merlin sighed, tapping his fingers in frustration on the freezer lid. He ignored the cold that spread through his hand almost instantly, instead, increasing the speed and force behind his taps until Lancelot rolled his eyes and quickly removed Merlin's hand, letting it hand by his side. "Arthur's being a prat again."

Lancelot's stance instantly changed: The hand on the mop he had been dragging around all morning tightened around the cheap plastic handle, his shoulders tensed and a frown spread across his face. "What's he done this time?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady – Arthur had been jerking Merlin around for the last few weeks, and Lancelot had had just about enough of watching his best friend being screwed over.

"He's got me falling for him."

Lancelot frowned, an offer to beat him up ready on his tongue. When he really thought about what Merlin had just revealed to him, he stopped, his mouth closing with a faint snap. "Wait, what?"

"I really like him." Merlin mumbled, resuming his frustrated tapping. This time, Lancelot made no move to stop him.

"I knew you had a bit of a crush on him, but liking him?" Lancelot watched Merlin closely for a moment, as if waiting for Merlin to suddenly grin and claim he was joking in that frustratingly childish way he normally did when they spoke about something serious. When Merlin merely continued to glare at the frozen chicken, Lancelot shocked. "Like him? As in 'like him' or 'like-like him'?" He rested the mop against his shoulder to allow himself to include the inverted air-commas.

"Like-like him."

"Oh."

"I know, right? It sucks. He obviously doesn't like me back. He probably thinks I'm a complete nutter after that traumatic recital of my life story in the café."

Lancelot thought back to the story Merlin had told him earlier, especially remembering Merlin's horror and shame at crying all over Arthur. "Has he texted you since then?"

"Yes…" Merlin frowned, finally looking Lancelot in the eye. "Why?"

"More than once?" He pressed, a small smile on his face.

"Yes, but it's probably out of sympathy for me having such shit social skills…" Merlin jumped as Lancelot suddenly threw down his mop, startling surrounding shoppers.

"But Merlin! This is wonderful!" He cried, slinging an arm over Merlin's shoulders. "Don't you see?" He said, upon spotting is friend's blank expression. "He likes you! Not just likes you, but _like-likes _you!" He held out his free arm, positioning his hand as if he were sizing up to take a photo. "Oh, I can see he wedding now!"

Merlin snorted in indignation, quickly removing Lancelot's arm from around his neck. "You keep kidding yourself, Lance." Even though Lancelot was being a complete moron, Merlin couldn't help but grin a little at his friend's words.

"See," Lancelot said fondly, ruffling Merlin's hair. "That made you smile. All is not lost!"

Trying desperately to sort out his hair, Merlin stuck his tongue out at Lancelot. "You're a dick."

"I know, I know."

* * *

"A little to the left. Left. _Left!_ No! Not that far!" Morgana shrieked as Leon and Lancelot attempted to manouvere her newest purchase (a new bookcase for the books that they didn't even have yet. "If we want to appear _cultured,_" Morgana had explained, "We need a decent bookcase. With books on it.") into the perfect position. Both of the men put it back down on the floor heavily, arms aching from the dead weight of it.

"Honestly, Morgana," Leon sighed, leaning against the bookcase for support. "This is exactly where we had it when we started. And," He continued, despite the cold glare she sent in his direction. "We'll only have to move it again next week when they come to put the wooden floor down."

"Yes, but I want to get a _feel _for how the room will look. Just in case in doesn't work and I have to change something." At Leon and Lancelot's blank stares, she tutted. "Gwen knows what I mean, don't you, Gwen?"

"Oh yeah, sure." She said, shaking her head furiously when Morgana turned away from her again. Lancelot snorted, failing to cover it up as a cough when Morgana's accusing eyes landed on him. She let out a weary sigh, dropping her arms down by her sides.

"You two wouldn't understand." She tucked a stray wave of hair behind her ear in frustration, checking the clock for the hundredth time in the past five minutes. "_Where _is my idiot brother?"

This time it was Leon's turn to snort. "And you think _Arthur _of all people will understand the need to get a 'feel of the room'?"

"Of course not. Arthur's about as useful as a limp lettuce when it come to interior design. I need an _artist."_

Gwen nodded. "That part is true." She paused. "Why don't you ask Merlin? He's an artist." Morgana fell quiet as she considered this, and everyone else sat in silence for a few more minutes, as Morgana obsessively reorganized the cushions that she had forbidden everyone from even thinking about sitting on. She looked up suddenly, dropping the cushion she was holding, when the doorbell rang. "Leon," She asked innocently. "Would you get that for me?"

"Yes." Leaping at the chance to escape his fiancé's wrath, Leon sped out of the room to open the door. Morgana quickly followed when she heard Leon cry, "Arthur!"

"Arthur! Finally! Where the hell have you been? I thought we agreed-" She trailed off, spotting another person fidgeting uncomfortably behind her brother. She watched with interest as Arthur squeezed their hand encouragingly. Peering around Leon (who was stood annoyingly in the doorway), she smiled smugly when her suspicions were confirmed. "Hello, Merlin."

"Hi." He grinned nervously, raising a hand in greeting.

"Come in, come in" Morgana waved Leon out of the way to let Arthur and Merlin through the door. "If you're up for it, I could use a second opinion? Really, Merlin," She continued, ignoring her brother completely. "Your insight as an artist would be particularly invaluable." She linked her arm with his, hurrying him through into the living room, paying no mind to his feeble protests.

"Hello to you too, Morgana." Arthur grumbled. "I'm fine by the way. I'll welcome myself in, shall I?" He watched her retreating back; smiling a little at the desperate looks Merlin was shooting him over his shoulder. He followed them through to where the others were gathered, where both Gwen and Lancelot greeted him warmly. Arthur relaxed a little when he noticed Merlin seem less nervous upon seeing his friend.

"Well, Arthur, Merlin, now that you're here, you'll help Morgana out, won't you?" Leon asked, smiling. "Lancelot and I will just go and get that erm…. Paint and stuff that you wanted, Morgana. Won't be long." Before either of the younger men could protest, they both grinned, shrugging on coats and scarves. He kissed Morgana goodbye quickly, before Leon and Lancelot shot out the door.

Arthur turned to Gwen, his expression confused. "Is it just me, or were they a little too enthusiastic?" He frowned as she nodded sadly. "Why do I get the feeling that we really shouldn't have come here?"

"Because you shouldn't have." Gwen said simply, watching as Merlin enthusiastically compared a paint chart with one of Morgana's fabric samples. "I think, we might be here for some time." Arthur sighed heavily, deciding it would be safer to perch himself on the floor after being warned by Gwen to avoid the cushions Morgana had been protecting all day with extreme vigour.

Almost as soon as he sat down, Morgana turned on him, all smiles and innocence. "Arthur, darling," She cooed, and instantly, he knew this wouldn't be pleasant. "That bookcase over there," She gestured to the monstrosity opposite him. "You couldn't move it a bit for me, could you?"

In the corner of the room, Gwen let her head fall into her hands. Why on Earth was she friends with these people? They (especially Morgana) were al clearly insane. "Oh dear God."

"Don't listen to her, Arthur. I only want it moved a little to the left."


	6. Chapter 5

**In which Arthur finally does something relatively brave, Merlin gets annoyed and slightly frustrated and whacks out the comfort food, Arthur says it like it is and Morgana lays down the ground rules.**

**I still don't own Merlin or any of the characters. (Apart from the secretary.)**

**Okay, while I was writing this, I realised that the original summary didn't match up with what I wanted the chapter to be like, so I changed the summary and fixed a few things that I didn't like. This is the full chapter. Seriously, it's possibly one of the biggest chapters I've ever written. About 6k! Enjoy (:**

* * *

When Arthur had told Merlin that he liked to take photos of everyone and everything that meant something to him, Merlin had expected a relatively large amount of photos as Arthur was one of the most popular people he knew. He imagined there would be lots of pictures of Arthur's friends, so he was extremely surprised when Arthur finally offered to show Merlin his portfolio.

"Now that we're a thing," Arthur had explained to him, holding him close, arms around Merlin's skinny waist. "I guess I'll show them to you. That is, if you want to." He said, with only one thin folder to nervously offer him.

"I thought you had more than this." Merlin mused, spreading them out on Arthur's bedcovers. He smiled at the one of Morgana and Leon. They looked a little younger, Leon's hair was shorter and Morgana wasn't pregnant and Leon was stood behind Morgana holding her close to his chest, chin resting on the top of her head. They were both smiling widely, extremely content to have their photo taken. The lighting was a little off, but Merlin thought it added to the feel of the photo, it all looked so natural.

Arthur huffed, poking Merlin with his foot from the safety of his desk chair (his room in the University halls was so small that even if he stood on the other side of the room, he was still within touching distance of Merlin). "I do have more yes. But the ones you've got are the good ones, you know, the ones of people I care about." He blushed a little. He'd never been one for talking about personal matters and it made him feel awkward. "The other ones were just taken for fun, you know? Plants and stuff."

"Can I see them?" Merlin looked up at him eagerly, carefully placing the photos he had back in the folder.

"If you must."

"Oh, I must." Merlin grinned as Arthur made a show of heaving himself out of his chair to reach underneath his bed. He watched as Arthur pulled out a large ring-bound folder, arms tensing under the weight.

"They're not very good." Arthur sat back down heavily, slouching in his seat. .No matter who it was, having someone look at your work, judging it, was hard, espeically when that someone was an artist who not only knew a thing or two about this kind of thing but was also someone Arthur cared about. Merlin's opinion mattered to Arthur.

"Arthur, you're an idiot!" Merlin suddenly exclaimed, making Arthur jump, then frown in confusion. "These are all incredible!" he flinched as Merlin swatted him on the knee. "How can you not see that these are amazing?" Merlin continued without taking a breath, gesturing to one of the photos in the folder. "I mean, look at this. _Really _look at it. People train for years to be able to do this, and you've done it with no training whatsoever and a depressingly shit digital camera."

"Hey! There's nothing wrong with my digital camera!"

"Arthur, when you picked it up just then to comfort it, the lens fell out." Merlin said matter-of-factly, watching him accusingly through the flicks of hair that fell over his face.

"That always happens."

"That's not meant to happen. Ever." Admitting defeat, Merlin turned back to the picture. "Where did you take this?"

Arthur leaned over to take a look, taking a moment to try and remember. "Uh. Oh yeah! It was at one of Morgana's friend's weddings. The photographer bailed, so Morgana signed me up to take the photos. The bride didn't like this one when I printed them, so told me to keep it."

Merlin snorted. "Was she stupid? This photo's brilliant." He tilted his head a little to look at it from a better angle – the bride was laughing as the wind whipped her veil around her face, trying to keep the delicate material of her dress off of the ground. She was surrounded by other smiling people, trying to help her to keep the veil under control and usher her toward the safety of the church behind her.

"It's alright I guess. I can see why she didn't like it." He gestured vaguely toward the photo. "The lighting's all weird." He frowned at Merlin's judgmental look. "What?"

"Shut up. Your photos are awesome. And if you don't accept that and embrace your obvious talent, you are as much of an idiot as that bride was for not liking your photo."

Arthur blushed deeply, trying to hide his embarrassment by playfully shoving Merlin's shoulder. Merlin very childishly (in Arthur's opinion) retaliated by swatting him over the head with the plastic wallet that held the photo. "Hey! What was that for?"

"What was that – Really? You're an idiot."

"Well, at least I'm not a clotpole."

Merlin stared at him for a moment, eyebrow rising slowly. "What does that even mean?"

"I have no idea."

"Merlin told me I should show off my photos. Like in an art gallery or something." Arthur peered over the two sheets of wallpaper that Morgana was making him hold up for her to look at.

She looked up from the washing she was carefully folding and frowned a little. "And what do you make of that?" She had insisted that Arthur hold up the wallpaper while she did her usual routine, claiming that it would help her get a 'feel' of the wallpaper. Arthur was convinced it was just punishment for not telling her that he and Merlin were officially together sooner as soon as he knew.

"I'm your _sister_," she had said, in a tone that was way too dramatic for the situation. "You're supposed to tell me _everything."_

"Well, I don't know." He sighed heavily, dropping his arms to his side. As a pair of balled up socks came flying towards his face, he very quickly held the samples back up. "Sorry. But, it's just, would anyone actually like them? Or would I just embarrass myself? Let's be honest, I don't belong in art galleries. I don't even know where they are!"

"You walk past them every time you go to the library, you idiot." She tutted, tilting her head to one side to look at the wallpaper he was holding. She screwed one eye shut and raised a hand to block one of them from her view, paused for a moment, before doing the same to the other.

"Is that what those buildings are?" He laughed a little. "I've always wondered."

Morgana shook her head in exasperation, gently placing the folded washing back into the wash basket. "Back to the point – of course people would like your photos, Arthur. They're incredible!" She pointed towards a frame on the wall behind her. "Look, I even deemed one of them good enough to put in my house." She couldn't help but smile fondly at the small grin of pride that unconsciously crossed his face. "Why shouldn't you do an exhibit? I say go for it."

"Thanks Morgana. But what about Father?"

"What about him?" She folded her arms across her chest, leaning back in her chair. "I don't like either of those patterns. Hold up the next two?"

Arthur sighed, slowly rolling up the two samples he currently had and randomly selecting two others from the ridiculously large pile that his sister had amassed. "Well, should I tell him?"

"About the exhibition? Or about you or Merlin?" She asked, ignoring his look of shock. As usual, she had instantly guessed that it wasn't just photography that was playing on his mind. Ever since he and Merlin had become official, as it were, Arthur had been fretting over whether or not he should tell his father, and the best time to if he did.

"How did you-?" He began, but was quickly cut off by Morgana holding up her hand.

"Don't even insult your intelligence by asking that. We both know full well that I always know what's bothering you."

"True." He sighed, arms aching from the effort of holding them up for so long. "If you're asking, both of them, actually."

"Well," Morgana said calmly, her tone fond. As much as she insulted him and forced him to do her bidding, Morgana really cared about Arthur, he was her baby brother after all. "Why don't you invite Father along to your exhibition, when you get your arse into gear and apply, and, maybe, if they decide that you're good enough, that would be the perfect time to introduce Merlin to him as your boyfriend."

"That's a good idea," Arthur said, smiling widely, clearly relieved that it could be resolved so simply. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because, dear brother, you are not nearly as smart as me." She smiled innocently, gently folding her hands over her stomach. She frowned as he snorted in disbelief.

"Can I put these down now?" He asked desperately, gesturing to the wallpaper.

"No. I still haven't forgiven you for not telling me about you and Merlin as soon as it happened. You know I like to stay in the loop. Now, let's have a look at the next two."

"Seriously?" Arthur looked distressed.

"Seriously." Morgana's face was stern – She meant business.

"Just send him an email."

"Isn't that a bit impersonal?" Arthur ran a frantic hand through his hair as he leant back heavily in his chair.

"Not necessarily. Unless you want to call him. Or go and see him personally." Merlin laughed as Arthur instantly shook his head in horror. "Send him an email then." They'd been sat like this for the last twenty minutes and despite Merlin's best efforts, the conversation had barely moved on, and Arthur was definitely no closer to making a decision.

"What should I say?" Arthur frowned, hands poised ready over the keys of his laptop. "Do I even have to invite him?" His expression was hopeful as he peered over the top of his screen at Merlin. He knew that he had a lot to talk to his Father about that he'd been putting off for way too long, but still. Uther Pendragon was intimidating.

"Of course you do!" Merlin tutted, casually spearing a piece of pasta on his fork. Arthur had cornered him in the University College's dining hall during lunch, plonked himself, his lecture notes and his laptop down opposite him and asked, well, more demanded, that Merlin help him because he was 'better with all that personal, feelings stuff'. "Besides, you were the one who said you wanted to invite him." He chewed the pasta slowly, watching Arthur carefully.

"Yeah, but…" Arthur scowled when Merlin chased his hand away from his plate with his fork.

"Get your own." He scolded. "But what? You either want to invite him or you don't."

"I do," Arthur began slowly, ignoring Merlin's sigh of frustration when he stole a sip of his water. "But, are photography exhibitions really his thing?" When Arthur had received an email from the gallery director in response to his application, he'd been insufferably smug for the entire morning (in Merlin's opinion). But it had been short-lived when Arthur had realized that he had no excuse not to invite his Father.

"How am I supposed to know? I've never met the man. The only thing I know about him is that he keeps a very tidy cupboard." Arthur smirked, thinking back to their escapades in his Father's office. Merlin's look of complete disapproval stopped him from voicing any inappropriate thoughts that had popped into mind. Merlin, for some reason, was utterly convinced that Arthur only ever thought about carnal things. Arthur maintained vehemently that it was only true some of the time.

"Why don't you just ask him? If he says no, well, he's an idiot. But if he says yes then that's fantastic. What have you got to lose?" Merlin turned back to his pasta, stabbing several pieces on his fork. As soon as he went to put them in his mouth, as if on cue, Arthur slammed his laptop shut, making Merlin jump and drop all the pasta he'd carefully selected. Frowning, and with an angry remark ready on his tongue, Merlin looked up at Arthur, only to close his mouth and sigh softly. Arthur had dropped his head onto the table in frustration, and tangled his hands so tightly in his hair that Merlin could almost feel the tugging himself.

"I can't do this!" He cried, voice muffled by the thick wood of the table.

Merlin rested his hand comfortingly on Arthur's head, gently removing Arthur's fingers from his hair. "Yes you can," He murmured, carefully replacing Arthur's fingers with his own. "I'll help you, if you like?"

"Really?" Arthur turned his head to the side, peering up at him. "You'd do that? But aren't you really busy?"

"Of course I'll help." He gently brushed the hair out of Arthur's eyes, teasing out a small knot between his fingers. "Coursework can wait a few more hours." He said, surprising himself with how calm he sounded. He'd been trying not to think about how behind everyone else he was – what with worrying about his mother, worrying about Arthur and all the stress he seemed to bring along with him, he'd pushed it aside. "I'll be fine."

"Thanks, Merlin, I really appreciate it." Arthur turned his head to press a kiss to Merlin's palm, before grinning wickedly and grabbing a piece of pasta from Merlin's plate.

"Hey! That's mine!"

"You're just too slow for me." Arthur looked far too smug as he chewed his prize slowly. His expression quickly changed to a frown when Merlin flicked him on the nose and leant back in his chair, arms folded.

"Shan't help you now."

"Aww, come on Merlin, I need your help."

"Nope. Not after stealing my food."

"Really?"

"Well, maybe if you beg." Merlin laughed at Arthur's put-out expression. "I mean it."

"Are you serious?" Arthur asked incredulously, feeling a strange sense of de ja vu. Didn't he have a conversation that ended like this only this morning?

Merlin's eyes narrowed, "Deadly."

As he was growing up, the only time Arthur stood outside his Father's office at work was when he'd been summoned after school because Uther had found out about some trouble he'd gotten into or because he'd failed a test or didn't make the grade in some coursework. Being concerned and generally happy to stick their nose where it wasn't wanted, his teacher had called his Father on more than one occasion to express their "disappointment". It usually led to Arthur being shouted at for a ridiculously long period of time, with his Father demanding to know why he though it was okay to "undermine" the Pendragon name, or deliberately embarrass his Father. Which of course was not what Arthur had intended.

On the contrary, Arthur had become exceptionally adept at avoiding fights and passing tests with flying colours, just to avoid having a shouting match with his Father. On the rare occasion that Arthur felt the need to put his fist in the face of one of his classmates, or didn't do as well as he hoped in a test, the visits to his Father's work always ended with either his Father ordering him out of his sight, or Arthur slamming the office door behind him when he stormed out. The latter became more frequent as he got older, when his confidence and height grew to match his Father's and he had had enough of being accused of non-existent ulterior motives.

So, at the age of twenty and not recalling punching anyone in the face or even having a test, Arthur was unsure as to why he was sat in the overly formal waiting room of his Father's law firm. Earlier that afternoon, three days after he'd sent the email to his Father, he'd received a phone call from Uther's secretary (who still hated him, ten years later, after Arthur had tripped her up by stringing his school tie between the doorframe to "catch the witch" who was terrorizing his Father's office) claiming that "Mr. Pendragon Sr." required "Mr. Pendragon Jr's" (And really, what was that about?) presence at exactly two thirty five pm to discuss "a matter of exceptional personal importance".

Collette (otherwise known to Arthur as the office-terrorizing witch) peered over the top of her glasses at him in obvious disapproval. Looking down at himself, Arthur decided that it probably would've been better if he hadn't worn jeans and a branded hoodie (another present from Leon. Probably instructed by Morgana to make him slightly more fashionable.). Still, he knew he looked presentable (Merlin had told him so before he left earlier that day.) and what Collette thought of him should be none of his concern. But, her accusing stare was beginning to make him uncomfortable. So, Arthur surprised himself by being extremely grateful when his Father strode out of his office, interrupting the evil stares he had been receiving. Not that the look his Father gave him was much better.

"Arthur." He said, by way of a greeting. The cold tone of his Father's voice told him everything he needed to know – this would not be a social visit. The way the older Pendragon stood with his hands clasped behind is back, his face void of any obvious emotion, reminded Arthur of all the other times that he'd faced his Father like this. He took a deep breath, steadying himself.

"Father." He stood slowly, warily watching as Collette paused in her vigorous typing to smile smugly at him over the screen of her computer.

"Follow me." His Father turned swiftly and strode back towards his office. "This won't take long." Arthur sighed. Experience warned him that this would in fact take quite some time, and that 'won't take long' was actually code for 'sit down and stay silent while I shout at you for however long I feel is necessary about being such a fail of a Pendragon.'

"Take a seat." Arthur settled down in the stiff chair opposite his father's desk, leaning back in exactly the manner his Father had spent years telling him not to. He considered it a small victory when he saw Uther's jaw clench in frustration. "I received your email," He began, seeming innocent enough. "Sit up when I'm talking to you." He snapped, frowning deeply when Arthur ignored him. "Was it some kind of a joke?"

Arthur frowned. "What part of it was amusing, Father?"

Uther raised an eyebrow slowly. "What part of it wasn't?"

Arthur ground his teeth together in frustration. He knew it would end like this. Just like every other time he'd invited Uther to something. "I don't quite follow."

"You don't follow?" Uther laughed a little. "Are you being serious, Arthur?" As his son did not respond, the smile quickly slid off his face. "You were being genuine? Good grief, Arthur, what have I told you about wasting my time?"

Arthur instantly bristled, straightening in his chair. "Wasting your time? _I'm _wasting your time? I'm missing a lecture to be here right now. Don't you think it would be more fitting to say that you're wasting _my _time? Couldn't you have just sent an email, rather than dragging me all the way over here just to shoot me down?"

"How dare you speak to me like that!"

"You were the one who called me out here. Well actually, you got Collette to call me, because you clearly don't want to 'waste your time' calling your son!" He spat. "I sent you the email," He poked himself in the chest to emphasize his point. "As a good-will gesture to you," now he poked his finger toward his Father. "Because I thought you might have just the _slightest _interest in my life and what I'm spending my time doing. Clearly," he said, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to fake nonchalance, "I was wrong. You don't care at all, do you?"

Uther forced a small smile onto his face, raising his hands in what Arthur assumed was supposed to be a calming gesture. It didn't work. "It's not that I don't care, Arthur, it's just-"

"Just what? What excuse is it going to be this time? You don't have the time? Prior commitments? I've heard them all, because you always, _always _manage to worm your way out of _everything _that I invite you to." He cut off Uther's attempted response with a raised hand. "Don't try to deny it. Every Rugby game, tennis match, school play and even parent's evening! You've never attended a single one and you know it." Arthur leant back in his chair, chest rising and falling rapidly.

Uther watched him carefully for a moment, resting his elbows on the surface of his desk and linking his fingers together. "Finished? Was that really necessary? Every time you come into my office you end up shouting at me. It's uncalled for and I don't appreciate it."

"Uncalled for?"

"Yes. A little respect wouldn't go amiss."

"Respect? I will show you respect when you finally start to deserve it!"

"Arthur! How dare you!"

"Will you come to the exhibition or not? That's all I want to know."

"If I can find the time."

"I won't expect you then." Arthur struggled for a moment to hide the shake in his voice, attempting to cover it. He'd hope that maybe just this once, Uther could see just how much this meant to him and appreciate the invitation. Apparently, a little acknowledgment and even less compassion had been too much to ask. "Are we done here?" Arthur asked.

"I should say so." Uther's face remained frustratingly blank as Arthur nodded once, turning to leave the office.

"Right. Well, goodbye, _Father._" He watched as Uther flinched at the venom in his voice. He frowned as Uther appeared to cover up his reaction by returning his attention to the paperwork on his desk. He waved his hand in Arthur's direction in a dismissal.

"Close the door behind you, Arthur. Please refrain from being immature and slamming it like you normally do."

Arthur slammed the door with as much force as he could.

Merlin knew that Arthur was furious before he even stepped into the room. Part of it was down to his magic – it's always allowed him a look into what other people are feeling. The stronger the emotion, the easier he found it to pick up on. He can feel the thrum of anger that Arthur's giving off a good minute or two before he can see him. He has a good idea of what, or who, caused it.

The other reason he knows is down to the text he received nearly ten minutes ago. The way it was worded so simply made Merlin a little afraid:

_Need to see you. Stop me doing something stupid._

He easily guessed that Arthur's meeting with his Father hadn't gone particularly well. Not that Merlin had really expected it to – from what he'd seen and what he'd heard from Morgana, Arthur's relationship with his Father was questionable at best. That was one of the few things, Merlin thought suddenly, that they had in common.

Merlin had responded quickly with his location:

_Art room. First on the left_

and waited patiently for Arthur to arrive. He'd spent the majority of his day in the art room in an attempt to make a dent in the large amount of work he had left to do. Working almost constantly seemed to have paid off though – he was really starting to get somewhere. When Arthur hesitated in the doorway, Merlin was grateful that everyone else had long since left. He entered the room quickly when Merlin wiped his paint-splattered hands on his jeans, cleared a pile of watercolour paintings from a chair for him and beckoned him in.

Arthur dropped his bag next to the chair (which was so covered in paint and so stereotypical that a small part of Arthur had to wonder whether it had been done deliberately) and sat down heavily. Merlin stood opposite him, silently leaning against the table he'd spread his work across. As Arthur focused on his feet and gripped his knees in an attempt to control himself a bit, he was grateful that Merlin didn't say anything and didn't ask any questions. They stayed in complete silence for a few moments, as Arthur continued to avoid Merlin's concerned gaze. Suddenly, a half-empty packet of Skittles came into view. He looked up in momentary confusion to see Merlin smiling faintly, offering the sugary sweets to him in an attempt at a comforting gesture.

It was such a small gesture that was so simple and innocent and so _Merlin _that Arthur quickly found it difficult to hold back the tears that had been threatening to surface for some time. He looked away again quickly so that Merlin couldn't see.

He clearly wasn't quick enough, because the next thing he knew, the Skittles were skittering across the floor and Merlin was wrapping his around him tightly, tucking Arthur's head under his chin. The sudden contact was apparently too much for Arthur's resolve, and his grip quickly moved from his knees to Merlin's shirt. He wasn't aware that he'd actually started crying until Merlin started mumbling hushed words that Arthur couldn't quite understand, but found somewhat soothing all the same.

It could have been Merlin's calming presence, or the soothing circles that he was rubbing into his back that helped Arthur get his anger more under control, he wasn't sure. It took a few minutes for Arthur to stop the damn tears and get his emotions in check. Merlin was reluctant to let Arthur move away from him when he shifted, settling for clasping his face between his hands and using his thumbs to wipe the tears from his face. He carefully brushed Arthur's fringe out of his eyes, pressing a small kiss to his forehead, his nose and finally his lips.

"I take it he's not coming then?" Merlin's voice was steady, but underneath the apparent calmness, Arthur could sense something else. Anger, maybe? Disgust? Contempt? A bit of everything, he decided. The way that Merlin had got so emotionally involved in Arthur's problems caused a small pang in his heart. Despite all the issues in his own life that Merlin had yet to face, and that Arthur decided he would promise to help him with, Merlin still found enough room in his heart and mind to be unfalteringly caring and genuine. It was times like this, of small comforts and simple gestures that seemed to mean so much, that made Arthur realize how lucky he was to have someone so profoundly _good _as Merlin.

"No, he's not coming." Arthur watched Merlin's face carefully as he frowned deeply, resting his forehead against Arthur's. He only just caught Merlin's mumble of, "_Bastard."_

"Did he have a reason?"

"No. I didn't wait for one. They're always the same."

Merlin sighed, slowly and quietly. He kissed Arthur's nose again, screwing his eyes shut. "He's an idiot. Really an idiot. You don't need him there, Arthur. I know you wanted him there and I get that, but he's an idiot for just – I mean, why would he-" Merlin took a deep breath. "I'll be there. For the entire time. You know I will be, right?"

Arthur knows. And for that, he's grateful. They stay sat like that, foreheads together, Merlin's hands on Arthur's face, Arthur's hands clenched in Merlin's shirt, for some time, comfortable in each other's presence, comforted by the quiet.

"Relax, Arthur." Merlin placed his hands on Arthur's shoulders, smoothing down the collar of his shirt. He had to congratulate Morgana on her choice of clothes for him; dark, figure-hugging jeans, white shirt rolled up to the elbows, grey-skinny tie and matching waistcoat. Despite his nerves, Arthur looked amazing. "It's going fantastically. Your prints have had loads of interest already."

Arthur sighed, resting his forehead against Merlin's shoulder. "I feel so out of place." He admitted slowly. "I'm not an art student – I do _Maths, _for God's sake! I'm sure people know that I don't belong here."

"It's an open gallery, Arthur. Anyone can get a slot, if they're good enough, regardless of what subject you do." He smiled a little when Arthur merely huffed, nuzzling his nose into Merlin's neck. "You've got just as much of a right to show off your work as the next guy." He ran a hand though Arthur's hair, gently pushing him away. He laughed at Arthur's disgruntled expression, attempting to herd him back towards his exhibit and the people milling around it. "Go on, go and charm some people into buying some photos."

Arthur scoffed, brightening a little. "I don't need to charm to sell. People can't resist my photos, they're that good." He joked, giving Merlin a quick peck on the lips.

Merlin watched as Arthur strode towards his exhibit, instantly catching the attention of two people admiring some of his prints. Merlin was slightly impressed with how easily Arthur hid his insecurities and his nervousness – his cool, collected demeanour was nothing compared with how he had been that morning. Merlin had had to talk him out of cancelling several times.

Although Arthur hadn't said anything outright, Merlin could tell how much it had hurt when his Father had told him he wouldn't be 'wasting his time' by attending. He'd seen Arthur's face fall when he had received the impersonal phone call from his Father's secretary, almost as if he knew that meant his Father would reject his invitation. Merlin guessed he was lucky that he'd never really had to worry about things like that – his Mother had always attended every school play, every parent's evening and every single art exhibition, no matter how small – so he couldn't tell for sure what Arthur was thinking, but he could see, from the way he looked up hopefully every time someone walked in the door, just in case his Father had changed his mind, only to look away quickly to hide his disappointment when it was yet another stranger, that Arthur was really hurting.

It made Merlin so angry to think that Uther had told his only son, to his face, that he thought that celebrating the success of his hobby was a complete waste of time. Surely he couldn't be that heartless? Merlin knew how at peace Arthur was when he was taking photos and his happiness and obvious enthusiasm when he was talking about his prints was unbelievably contagious. The more he thought about it, about Arthur, the more angry he became – there must be a little bit of Uther that cared about his son, right? As he watched Arthur laugh, gesturing towards his prints, chatting away to a potential buyer, Merlin frowned. Surely Uther couldn't believe this was a waste of time?

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Merlin looked away from Arthur, momentarily startled from his toughts. He relaxed when Morgana smiled at him, linking her arm though his. "Hmm? Oh. Not really worth the penny." He let himself be slowly led around the exhibit by Morgana, who, as usual, looked stunning in an elegant, yet modest, red cocktail dress, feigning passing interest in the works they wandered by.

"Come now, Merlin, we both know that there's a lot going through that head of yours." They paused for a moment while Morgana adjusted her hair slightly in the reflection of the glass in a photo frame. "You can't fool me."

"I can try though, right?" At the scolding look she shot at him over her shoulder, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's Arthur. And Uther. I just – Well, when he said – the look on his- It just makes me so angry that he could just- " He ran a hand through his hair quickly, trying to find the right words. "I'm worried about him."

Morgana nodded slowly, slipping her arm through Merlin's again and continuing their browsing of the exhibits. "Uther can be cruel. Exceptionally so. I know that as much as the next person. But no matter how much he tries not to show it, he does love Arthur." She ignored Merlin's snort of disagreement. "He does. Deep down in that stone cold heart of his. I know it doesn't seem like it, but he does. Uther has never been one for showing emotions, or showing that he cares-"

"But this is his son for Christ's sake!"

"Because he just doesn't know how." She continued. "When our Mother died," Here she faltered. She took a deep breath before continuing. "When our Mother died, Uther felt like he'd lost everything. He'd spent the first few years of Arthur's life doting on his every whim, but when he lost our Mother, he didn't know what to do anymore."

"Arthur had no idea what had caused his Father to suddenly not want to spend time with him like he used to, and you have to understand, at three, he was easily led by his emotions. He thought Uther had abandoned him. Watching Arthur feel so alone and grow up thinking his Father hated him killed Uther, it really did. But the truth was, Arthur reminded him too much of our Mother. Not just in looks, sure he had her blue eyes and blonde hair, but in personality – Arthur was so trusting and loving and unwaveringly loyal, and Uther couldn't deal with it. So," She sighed, gripping Merlin's hand in hers. "He kept his distance. And, when he came to a point where he could look at Arthur and not burst into tears of grief, it was too late to repair the damage and their relationship has remained as dysfunctional and hateful ever since." The silence that fell when she finished was uncomfortable.

"That's not much of an excuse to say those things to his child, though."

"It's not an excuse, Merlin," Morgana's tone was sharp. "There is no excuse for the way Uther chose to deal with my Mother's death. Even if there was, I wouldn't have it. What I just told you was an explanation. So that you understand and know the full story before you cast judgements." She let out a frustrated huff of breath. "Not that your judgements are too far off, I imagine." She stopped walking suddenly and turned to face Merlin, laying a hand on his chest.

"Arthur is fragile. He may not seem it, under all that laddish charm and apparent lack of care about what the world thinks of him, but he is. Deep down, he's still a hurt little boy that misses his Father, and if I find that you've hurt him in any way, or abandoned him, I will kill you myself, okay? I can't watch my brother go through something like that again."

"You have my word, Morgana. I'm not planning on going anywhere."

"Thank you." Merlin watches as Morgana suddenly turns, and hurries toward Arthur, arms outstretched for a hug, loudly exclaiming her congratulations. He watches as Arthur grins and wraps his arms around his sister tightly, and he smiles in response to Arthur's happy waving to him. He realizes, as he stands there, a smile on his face, that he really, truly meant what he said – he couldn't imagine his life without Arthur now.


End file.
